Jagged and sharp
His fears go on and on
like a piece of torn paper
He lies in a state of constant exclusion.
With no memories to share
with no strength to stand up on
All crumpled up
Insignificant as a dust particle
One of the million that dance
Over the ambassadors of the morning
That come flying in through his windows.
He looks through his window day and night
and all he can see is a threatening dark horizon
Deep red and eclipsed by the crumbling blue sky.
"Who am I ?" he asks
"What is my purpose here?"
"Why am i still here" he thinks
What is this lives worth."
Reminded him of a line he'd read as a child
In William Wordsworth's Daffodils.
"I wandered lonely as a cloud
High over hills and dales"
Emptiness is a not a phase
And in these hollow plains, i still graze.