Five thousand, eight hundred and thirty hours
give or take
since that bitter moment
I have spent three of those hours
with other humans
it would take me, at this very rate
nearly five and half years to spend
a full day with others
but I doubt I have that left in me
I am crushed in this solitude
perspective as askew as a half-dropped coat
in an autumnal rain
or the pile of ungifted gifts
still in your name
weariness envelops my frame
and night brings sleepless seclusion
there are no priests or gods to grant
the absolution I crave
no lightbringer lingering on
far horizons
there is not the peace and quiet
of welcome relief
but the cold stare of eternity
I cannot save myself from this
I have no arms left to wave to
imaginary lifeguards or for gripping the rope
I have no voice with which to cry
some prayer of plea for mercy
I am disembodied
mute and falling
every man is an island now
and mine is on no charts
to be found or discovered by
adventuring souls
there are no stars to guide
sextant and compass abandoned
I will drown in this placid sea

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