The Death of a Solipsist

A castle of clouds comes crashing down,
In the effervescent flash of longing.
To reach out, and touch something:
Change it forever.
Then gone,
Echoing resentment against unlit mountaintops.
Tears come after the thunder rolls,
Showering the gardens never-to-be-sown;
No apple orchards to be found.
The weight the oppresses pushes through the dreamstuff,
Pushing self-contained resentment into the barren dirt,
Down and down again,
A tactical retreat into a hand-forced surrender.
Transcendent wings molt,
Dropping me to my feet once more.
Gravity pulls down the coat-tails that wipe away my footprints.
“So this is goodbye, then.”
With an adieu,
The scenescape morphs into an abomination,
Snapping back to the proper form.
The ocean of everyone comes like a flood,
And washes away the sand-castle,
Where I hid my childhood dream-self,
And carries him out to the sea of being seen.