Cobbled stones, not dust. <br /> <br />So acute was my loneliness that dream I must. <br />Escapism was a flight from dreary realism. <br />. <br />If roam I must, if chains I must break <br />Alone, in this pebble-strewn destiny <br />My happiness I must fake. <br />. <br />So acute was my loneliness that home was far <br />Too far; too far and distant my loved ones and my thoughts <br />That in that black cosmic wilderness even the North Star <br />Seemed close enough to touch. That even my words <br />Seemed transparent and tinted with Orientalism <br />. <br />So distant and cold, so empty my worlds. <br />So acute was my loneliness even the poems would not come <br />The words fled, the streets wet, a spectre I had become <br />My memories tinged with the bitter things I had done. <br />. <br />All alone. When dawns touched my lids after fitful sleep <br />I had resolved never, never to weep <br />However deep the pain. However acute the pain <br />The sun would shine tomorrow and I would become myself again. <br />. <br />Copyright: Rani Turton<br /><br />Rani Turton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/so-acute-was-my-loneliness/
