The World of the Self

Sometimes I feel like a Mahler adagio set free in a world to drift past sites a human pair of eyes or ears can recognize as vaguely divine but so remotely removed from the current situations of stress and happiness that's pretended for others' well-being when all along, the world of the self is a sad floating plane of misery and missed connections. Sometimes I feel like a Mahler adagio set loose on a world that has no use for the sadness I feel or make my daily bread while I sustain my suffering soul in this reality of unreal actions and hidden emotions. Sometimes I feel like a Mahler adagio alone, alone, alone amongst the many who will never feel it the way I do.