Thursday, August 2, 2012

All Is Vanity



An old brown fence is a mirror for a rather vain little tree.
It gazes with joy at its shadow and says 'Wow! Look at me!'
As it sways in the breeze it follows the movements as they're portrayed
Utterly distracted by the magic of light and shade.
'I'm so solid!' the tree announces, 'Look! I cut-out the sun!
I guess I'll dance for ever! Aren't I the lucky one!'
But, next day, it sees there are spaces; the day after there are more.
That's how it learns of mortality.
 It finally knows the score.

To be alone is not, of course, to be lonely.
Solitude is a loneliness with charm.
Be in a place where one is the one and only,
And experience a sort of egotistical balm.
In my little room I find the pleasures of solitude;
Though in crowds I often feel all alone,
In my little room 'alone' is a sweet beatitude;
And true loneliness I have never known.
But imagination allows me to think and empathise
With the truly lonely who walk this world with me.
I can will myself into their minds and then I can fantasise
About how sorrowful loneliness must be.
To long for another and never see their face again
Is true loneliness that nothing can assuage.
It's like searching forever and never finding a trace again
It's like reading a book with nothing on every page.

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