The full splendour of solitude is never evident except to those whose voices are never heard. Not even in the realm of blogs. The loneliness of pain. The loneliness of utter old age. The loneliness of failure. The helpless isolation of the spoke in a wheel. Solitude comes in many flavours. Emptiness is just one of its many faces. There is also the heavy stuff. The one that crushes you down. The odd thing is most of the time you are surrounded by faceless humanity. But who cares. It is the other guy after all, not you.
The tree was fine when I saw it last time. I don't quite recollect how long ago that was. I do recollect the tree was fine. Now I see it again. All shrivelled up, The glorious leaves gone, So too the pride. It looks old, Maybe feels old, wasted, useless What happened to you, old friend? What bolt of destiny struck you down. I doubt you will ever hold that head up again Against the sky, against the wind, against time. But don't you worry. We are with you. Shrunk, shrivelled, shaken down No matter. We are with you.
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