a light on the water

My father, to be happy both now and when again we meet I must fly from all this life which is mockery to one like me. In solitude only shall I be myself; in solitude I shall be thine.

Odd, how often I see myself like this these days, at a distance, being someone else and doing things that only someone else would do.

Mother, forgive me. Hear the leaves? I am already memory.

I'll be alone, / sitting across from an absence.

Virgil had a phrase for it: “The tears of things.” As if everything in nature Were filled with grief And wanted only to weep. When that dark mood Weighs me down, I feel the urge to cut Each bright thread That binds me to this world. My body seems a sad thing I’d gladly leave behind- Something I could Step out of, or A long bandage I would unwind.