Loneliness

A cell, without walls, that confines the spirit.
A circle of damp, bitter light enveloped in void
Where the soul sits in remourse and pity of self
It seeks adventure, wildness.  Finding it, sucks
it in.  A black hole of emotion, destroying that
precious kindness bestowed out of love and trust
in the melancholy of expectations of perfection,
absorbing them in the callous of their abscence.
A dry wind blows across the surface of a moaning
desert; the hermit, walks around and enjoys life
at peace with himself, his surroundings, and God