Solitude

Solitude motivates my brains to work—

It brooks no intrusion whatsoever,

For my creative juices to flow.

Solitude goads on a reminiscence;

Jerks my memory out of slumber land.

And in the morning mist I think of her—

The hostage to my fortune.

Solitude incites my recollection of a fear:

That in some tempting day;

In the solitude of my persona I’ll boil over,

And defile the sanctity of this life.

Solitudes prods the raging fire of an ambition;

And in the event this odyssey comes to a desired end,

I aspire to touch and inspire;

Not with my hands but oeuvre.