Nothing But
By John Herlihy

In a wide world, where all seek undue gain,
He singled himself out as perfectly sane.
Holding firmly a rope, by others heeded not,
He lived his life in a sacred, solitary spot.
Its windy aisles and groaning shelves contain
Food for moral hunger; respite from endless pain.
In that regard, his future seemed unbroken,
Hopeful of redemption that his intentions betoken.
As birds fly indifferent to Heaven’s rain,
He walked detached through Earth’s unending bane.
Lingering doubt always asks the question what;
His answer had become certainty and nothing but.