The malady of loneliness

The malady of loneliness                                                            

Alone with my thoughts providing

distractions and entertainments

to keep a rendezvous at bay.  Thoughts

creating the shell encircling a vulnerable ego.

We inhabit, perhaps, the same house but, lost in thought,

I never cross paths with my Companion,

(evidenced only by wistful glimpses, residual clues). 

Am I truly alone within this odd, familiar structure?

Fear keeps me from exploring the premises.

I take, instead, to the streets

or hole myself up in my fiction-lined attic.

I’m free to entertain, of course –

friends in the parlor, spooners on the porch,

lovers in the rooms upstairs, but, to uncover

whether or not I am truly alone,

I must descend into the dank bowels,

near to the crumbling foundations,

and in that darkling place, kindle a lonely flame

to expose or not, the cornered face

of my Beloved, my Companion.

O child of God!  For the malady of loneliness,

solitude is the only possible cure.