Thoughts explore the channels of thy mind
As sensation upon sensation climb
To where, again at the beginning, find
It strange, and see things in a different light.

Loneliness, thou poverty of self –
When life’s rich colours turn to monotone
Where all is shadowed fretfulness, rising
And circling round a sensory alone.

Solitude, thou richness of the self –
The World and thee in fulsome harmony
With all thy flowering thoughts and dreams touching
The soul’s load spring, to prod it, tenderly.

January 1996