to a friend part III
the loneliness of thought is the worst:
a pain that is so fruitless, so deserted
that it fills the mouth of my living being
with dust and death.
each word is spoken to the wind and meaningless
when it resounds in ears that do not hear
the scream of nothingness, of thirst
of hunger and of hope.
of hope for that mind to return that most
resembled mine. that did not cypher
what it found, but let me know.
my agony is kept alive by hope
and my absolution too.
This poem was written by Eliza Simon on Dec 11, 2007.
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