comfort me, and please do gently pull me out of my misery, my fantasy, which so helplessly pulls me in deeper in which I fall into the terrifying gloom of hope.
of bright, flamboyant dreams.
and here inters my day whose air is infested by melancholy, as I sit atop the mountain and glare.and I have got nothing to do, no where to go, so I drowned deeper within it.
and now the leaves are most wonderful warm yellow, as I contemplate what us the source , what is the source of all human emotions?
what is the reason behind my bitter tong, my sour thoughts, why do I feel no joy, why do I need your comfort.
my mother was sweet and my father was gentle, my siblings play and hug and love and love.
why then/ why am I so bitter, so mournful? why do I only find comfort in you? dear solitude?
why is it that only atop a mountain, only deep within the heart of quite, and in quite comes its glory-forest, do I feel the slightest trace of joy.
oh solitude, must if I must dwell within thee.
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