Utter Destitution of Time

Time strides forward, mocking my emptiness
It recedes, leaving me stranded,
Frail, folding inward,
A solitary presence: lone, exposed, and bare.
I strive to witness the world:
Golden fields of autumn, shadowed trees
Once vibrant, now fading with a sigh,
Their beauty slipping beyond my sight
As I descend into a vast and hollow void.

Even Catherine’s cat waits, curled at my feet,
Silent, patient for her return,
An unspoken faith.
Beyond the glass, a tree leans inward,
Its branches cradle a fragile nest,
Woven with care by a lone bird
Her craft delicate, instinctive and pure.
I marvel at her quiet labour.
Soon, perhaps, she will lay her eggs.
Yet still, she is profoundly alone.
Her solitude echoes mine.
The world, too, feels steeped in loneliness,
Its sorrow sprawling deep, untold
A silent story no lips dare speak.

The stars cling to invisible threads
Across the vast and voiceless sky,
Their light flickering with the ache of isolation.
The ocean, wide and fathomless,
Bears countless ships upon its waves,
Yet harbours a heart unknowable
Drifting, solitary, in its depths.

The mountains spill their grief
Tears falling into rivers and streams.
Deserts burn in aching silence,
Their torment long ignored by time.

A nostalgic bard strums songs of absence,
His chords echo through sleeping forests,
While memories fade like whispers.
Still, life presses forward
Through trial, through hush,
Through the solitude, each soul must carry
A fleeting moment,
An endless sigh