Adrift, on an Ocean of Loneliness
No man is an island, I've heard the learn-ed say
Inferring that we keep in touch, in an abstract sort of way.
No man can do what he has to do if he's entirely.... alone,
Every one of us reaches out and asks that they be shown.
The firm grasp of friendship, the caring touch of love,
We reach out to the brotherhood, we pray to God above.
What happens if the answer is a silence we can't bear,
What happens if our fellow man and God, hears not our prayer?
We are set adrift in an ocean of loneliness and gloom,
We are left to our own devices in a pathetic little room.
Be still, it could be a mansion of twenty rooms or more,
But the area is of no consequence, when no one comes to the door.
No man is an island when contact can be made,
But in the aftermath of Death, it's the survivors we evade.
Embarrassment, intrusion, we excuse ourselves this way,
But do we really understand bereavement, day after gloomy day?
Unless you have experienced it, a child or at worst your wife,
Then friend, you have not sunk as low at anytime in your life.
Adrift upon that ocean, of loneliness and despair,
Distress is your companion, for who else is there to care?
Waves of silence crash around you, storms rage in your heart,
When the only one that you have loved, at last has to depart.
The emptiness surrounds you, photographs stand and stare,
Is there anybody out there, doesn't anybody care?
Such is the state of loneliness, adrift and all at sea,
Anger, fear, frustration, culminate in apathy.
Indulgence in self pity manifests in leaps and bounds
For you are reminded of your loneliness by your everyday surrounds.
The loney just need contact, a word from day to day
This is the role they ask of you, a role we all can play.
Copyright © 2005 David Burt , all rights reserved
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