The fire in my belly grows dim.
My chill flesh remembers
Bright embers, within.
Yet, as memory fades,
As the spark we fed
With each hungry breath
Drifts near death;
Famished, urgent, wishing
For the heartfelt touch of another mind,
For the God-food of intuition,
For the fuel of cognition;
We hurtle, to hie to conflagration,
And flare into wildfire of repartee.
We sing a song of solitude,
And lend loneliness its long farewell.
Solitude is sitting silently in a boat on a sea of friends.
Loneliness is sitting on a yacht in a vast, empty parking lot.