This poem emerged from an observation that I made that “Loneliness is the shadow of individualism.” Loneliness is an epidemic in America, the most individualistic culture on earth. This poem goes out to anyone who has ever felt “only,” that this is all there is and it doesn’t seem enough.
Only-ness
Countless
Daze of high noon
The sun sets on
The season of winner
Days short
Nights longing
Loneliness is the shadow
Of individualism
The pinnacle in-sufficiency
And a collective poverty
A dis connect
In a see of technicalities
Of too many means
And too many ends
Only-ness
On a superficial high way
Populated buy driverless drivers
A third wheel in a crowd
Loved ones not there
Or knot here
A vacancy rents us
And out of this (and that)
A spiritual mass of confusion shows up
The self help gurus for hire
Pro pose
Taking nothing
Personally
And still
Weather left of centered
Or unpleasantly right
Find oneself
In a desert of comforts
On the wrong side
Of a mountain of troubles
The shadow beckoning
Look up
To that down to earth eclipse
With real eyes
That everybody
Is somebody
Among nobodies
Wherever
Two gather
And what ever
You herd
Soles
Two by two
Times much more
Hike over
