silence unto God

Isolation is invitation,
Cutting through the flesh
Like the slow dance
Of a thousand razor blades;
Bringing an eerie,
Almost matter of fact cry,
From the world of our secrets
That seamlessly inhabit
Both day and night.
We think of dreams
As something imagined
…….something unreal…….
Yet are we not a constant dream?
Living an experience, clear in the heart,
But ever so fleeting to the touch?
Therefore, I must love my solitude;
And sing out with the pain it inflicts:
That is me…….is that all of us?
But I am within all of me:
A dream of being,
Be it nothing…….or everything;
Groping about, sometimes frantic
…….often timid…….
Emerging again into the light,;
Singing the song of my own sufferings
Looking for the goodness
Inherent within my longings.