Alone (bonus)

In solitude, I found the self that in crowds I lost—
A piece that in sanity, could not exist in peace,
Alone; a controversy, to even I, who in its pool,
Swam; I, who in its robe, clothed from cold.

There was a time before, and before before;
A time when knots of strange could unwind,
A time of transition from self to something,
A time of understanding little to nothing.

There was a time before, and before before;
A time when the world swam, swam around me,
A time when I blinked and days passed not.
Now, drifting, so strange is every concept.

I want not much but time with self—a headless self,
With less thoughts of less self, and less noises in self…
About the world, from the world, singing, crying…
About this, about that, that I am weary of.

A discussion is coming up; see…