not-so-splendid isolation

what writer doesn’t crave time alone,

to write, float, feel free to create

in a world of imagined forms

 

yet ‘on your own’ brings up all kinds of stuff:

the thought, the feel, the sense of nothing,

the loneliness of being alone

 

I thought I’d welcome the time on page

that can stretch so far and deep –

yet now it’s self-pressure to perform

 

in my restricted bowl, with views of nought,

I have to reframe the reminder ticks

as a chance to live, to write, and transform

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