Solitude
By Kenneth David Teel

Sometimes
When good friends bomb us
With their bombs
And toss too many pennies
At our feet
And flood our minds
With gay sincerities

We want to flee
And think
There is no place to hide
No freedom anywhere

We pull inside ourselves
Not in malice towards our friends
But in preservation
Of ourselves
We run
And run
Through the wind
Through the waving grass
Up to a wind cliff
Above the sea

We find ourselves
Not in our friends
Like mirrors
Bouncing back our cherished images

We find ourselves
In Solitude.



*Often acceptance and favor, and the company of the normal, begin to clutter and confuse, and play havoc with the senses of freedom and autonomy. So we may "flee" not from ourselves, but to define ourselves....*







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