Loneliness

image

In the dark of night by the light of a my screen
I search for the one who finally could hear me
It shouldn’t be such trouble do I live in a bubble
Why can’t I find them when the sun lets me see
But I stumble and mumble beneath that great eye
And the hope of a friend becomes ever more dim
So I wait till the dark to send out my spark
With the wings of a desperate prayer oh so slim
But it’s lonely at night without warmth or the light
And these words on my screen just won’t do
So I’ll hold out this hope though it makes me a dope
That I’ll find me one who’s more than a pixel or two.

Lonely Island

What lonely island lies ahead
It’s shores no man has ever tread
And deep into its overgrowth
No utterance is ever said

All alone with nature’s call
I walk within it’s verdant halls
A pioneer with trail to blaze
The trees like columns standing tall

And as I reached the peak up high
A single finger to the sky
I swung around and looked back down
And from me rung a quiet cry

The charm

What wicked charm you cast my love
This heart bedeviled with care for you
Chains wound tight tug at my soul
Drag me to that empty place
Found at my side when you are gone
Yearning, burning, painful loss
Hounds me every place I go
Till breathlessly brought low
I pant with pain for you my dear
So quench this heart parched with longing
A single smile, a kindly spoken word
And a thousand voices rise up in song
With lips wet with praise for you
Their chorus a life giving torrent
Refreshing this dry and dusty soul
What glamour have you cast my love
To bind me heart and soul to you

Wintry Woes

A creeping cold slips through my door
To steal warmth from hearth and home
And I am left bereft of joy
No holiday to cheer these bones
Or comfort me on these long nights
This vigil I must keep alone
A watchman by my window pane
For your return from restless nights
of wander in these wayward streets
with lustful longings in your eyes
will winters bluster blow you back
into these arms that ache for you
and without question or complaint
just grateful for you once again

gods

In times long past the gods of old
Were like the men who worshipped them
The loved and played upon the earth
And frolicked on the sandy sea shore
But as men grew they wanted more
And so we saw a new god made
Set free from all our human frailty
This diety the unmoved mover
And the all knowing unknown
Dwells like an eye up in the sky
Looking down upon our mortal frame
His transcendence bought at a price
For he bears us no similitude
Who call upon his mighty name
But even this was not enough
A perfect god stripped of our folly
And so we labored once again
To craft a god more perfect yet
One without the makers mark
No trace of heart or mind resides
Inside this clockwork diety
No guiding will shall move his hand
No plan from which to stray
And this is how we found ourselves
Quite lonely in this little world
Set adrift by thoughtless hands
Into that cold and starless space
Alone at last our mortality to face

Tangential thoughts on Loneliness

I’ve been thinking about loneliness recently, and it has reinforced my belief that we really don’t know ourselves all that well. I’ve been wondering how I have reacted to various situations of loneliness and how I would react to potential conditions. Regarding loneliness before I was married, I can sort of remember that it had effected me, in some cases strongly, but it also seems that I was not as aware of it as I am now, but how much of this is how I really was and how much of it is just the acuteness of my current condition coloring these memories? And for hypothetical cases of loneliness, like if the separation from my family were more permanent, I struggle to come up with an answer as to how I would respond. I sometimes speculate, but I really have no confidence in my ability to predict something as complex and dynamic as the human response to such adverse sociological conditions, even if those responses are my own.

And this has me thinking about who we are, our person and identity, is not so much a thing as it is a predicate, a state of being. We are the summation of our responses, both potential and actual, to the various stimuli that surrounds us, whether internal or external. The problem with trying to understand who we are by peering behind these behaviors to understand the why of them is that the more we brush them away, the less of us there is to analyze, so that the very act of pressing the investigation further is self-defeating. Finally, when we have pulled back the curtain to understand the core of our identity, to understand the motives and desires that lie behind the things we do, all that we discover are ever moving shadows that skirt the edges of our analytic light. There are no homunculi at the core of our being, but rather a web of beliefs, about ourselves and the world around us, and not all of these are secure.

But I wonder, why do I insist on denying something like a soul? It isn’t as though I find the more transient and mercurial theory more appealing. I would actually like to believe that there is a core entity that holds true no matter for the question of who I am. So then, why do I reject this conclusion? And this is perhaps part of the reason I have rejected it, in that I cannot really answer the question of why I have rejected it. I can not discern the reasons behind this belief; I cannot discern the soul that is moving me, that offers a sense of permanency and solidity within me. Things have so conspired to move me in various directions, often against my conscious desire, that I have all but given up on something subsisting through the vagaries of my behavior and beliefs. Why am I so helpless before these unseen forces? I don’t know, but it seems obvious that I do not really know myself, do not know how I will react to various circumstances, for if I did, then how could I have been so thoroughly caught off guard by these changes?

Thus, I have been forced into accepting this idea as well, in order to account for this reality in a way that can allow me to accept it and adapt to it. I really have no choice in the matter other than to accept beliefs that can successfully navigate the subjective environment I find myself in. So, how much of a “me” can there be if I can’t even determine the beliefs I hold? I don’t know, but perhaps this regret I have does hold out some kind of hope for me. Either that or it simply demonstrates my unfitness to live with the truth, even while I am irresistibly drawn toward pursuing it.