I’ve never felt more alone,
Than when returning,
To the land i once called home.
The rolling, empty plains,
Barren of any shelter,
Let the fierce winds of empty existence roar,
As they were meant to be.
Though I am surrounded by family,
And even some who could be called friend,
Blinking red air traffic lights,
Signal in Me some meaningless metronome,
Transporting me to a smaller time,
Before i had known love and the wisdom time silently affords,
When i remembered nightly the distance of the stars.
Whenever i was more hopeful,
i imagined the effervescent headlights of travellers,
As some portent of an unimagined tomorrow,
Where I would be on the other side,
Driving past my past,
But even as i thought it,
i nimbly forgot the fact I could already drive.
I had forgotten how soothing,
The regular crash and cawing of the trains could be,
Staring at the untainted nightsky ,
Littered with stars to each horizon,
Meditavely erasing my thoughts,
Except for the elusive and persistent reminder brought to clarity:
I/i’m never lonlier than when I/i’m myself.
Post-Neology 