In solitude I cast no shadow
on the world around me.

Undistorted by the angle, 
the quality of the light,
or varied textures, 

of surfaces upon which 
I am reflected.

My own light,fullfilled
shining, undistracted
by myriad images,  

the unique iterations,
of minds, the endless walls,
separating the compartments

In which I used to dwell.




Grandparents and old Barns,
rustic, substantial, familiar,
anchoring our landscapes
in beauty and familiarity;
the last roots of a passing age.

We take them for granted,
fortresses built to endure;
infallible, certain, defining.
eclipsing time, as each
like any Edifice,
tints the surrounding air
with immortality.

The old man in the mountains
exhausted at last, tumbled,
into the valley to rest, slowly
surrendering his burden to
become scrabble and gravel,
eventually sand and soil.

Now landmarks vanish
fallen, they rest in turned earth
even as their vacancy
transforms our landscapes
holes in suddenly mortal air.