Abject Solitude
When all the sounds that fill the air die not,
And for a little rest, my ears do crave,
The joys of loneliness that I forgot,
In silence lie, the hallmark of the grave;
What little time for solitude is best,
In distant place, to hide and nurse my pride,
This untrue, put-on, face is put to rest,
When virtue took on over as my guide;
But what a price, to pay for all the space,
Will it be worth my while to gain myself,
That once I lost as wager in that race,
And which denial kept for me, in shelf;
………And here, at last is balm for unhealed wound,
………But most of all, refuge for me is found.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Added by Poetry Lover
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