Lonely
The outlier
Descendant of
All one:
From many, the singular,
Whole, complete,
Everything.
So how did it come to this
Over time?
What change
Turned everything
Into almost nothing--
In fact, one--
Lost and looking out
Reaching for the rest of its story?
How did I forget you?
How did you forget me?
Why do we refuse to open our eyes
Why do we agree to this solitude?
You touched me once.
Touch me again.
Turn on the light and let me find you.
We are all one.
Note: Thinking on some Hemingway I have read recently...and thinking of how language can turn itself inside out sometimes. In this case the movement from all one to lonely is revealing, so plain in its obvious truth. The word startled me this week. This is a poem about language. Love is something else.
One Single Impression
Sandy Carlson Social