I woke up lonely today
with an irrepressible chill to shake away
Some place deep
Leading me eventually, inevitably ... 
to this *used to be* empty page.

Perusing poetry, 
My own Word stirring within me
..yet refusing the call
Terrified that perhaps it is only echo
and that things are past
My Word passed -
onward, without my knowing.

Random thoughts, early morning.
I shake my head abruptly.
Stifling familiar panic
about losing familiar arts.
I feel it flow again, freely.
and I write.
Not a poem really,
but potent all the same.
Like perusing poetry 
about Love Hurts and Pain
And knowing that you are free.

Not free really,
Loneliness confines me.
But at least not currently hurting
not hopelessly attached
to this or that he
I read, but the words stir no more in me
than memory ... and selfish relief
that I escaped ... that it was them
and not me
crying Love Hurts, "Set me Free!"

I have not escaped the irony:
That my heart is free
even as loneliness imprisons me.
Is there a way to win? Freedom!

The topics of my early morning meditation
..faded, yet again, into another dawn.