It’s not easy
to be alone
other people
have impatient
waiting-room eyes.
The floor pulls
your steps out from
under you.
You swing yourself
from hour
to hour.
“After an age of longing had we missed
Our meeting and the dream, what were the good
Of weaving cloth of words? Were jewelled tales
An opiate meet to quell the malady
Of life unlived? In untried monotone
Were not the earth as vain, and dry, and old,
For thee, O Perfect Light, had I not sought thee?”
Ezra Pound | “Canzon: The Vision”