Converged Atop a Lonely Island
I sit alone at a corner shop,
Eating my meal,
It's strange to be alone;
Not that I'm unaware of its presence,
Not that I fear it's belonging,
Not even that it's strange because of the surrounding people,
All accompanied by at least another.
My soul intrinsically separated,
I simply feel at ease.
As I watch the man I used to know,
In what I'm sure a business deal,
I ponder the rest of this restless crowd.
To the man sitting at the corner across,
Eating alone as well.
I question whether to stand up and unite,
To become alone together.
I don't know how the world may spin atop a shackled axis,
Or how the trees may burn beneath the sun,
I do know that in this moment,
As I watch you,
There stands a thing within me.
I can't speak to its meaning,
If any at all.
I know that I can sit,
Comfortably and alone,
on two islands converged.
Can the streaks of light scattered on the window,
Form an image of my eyes.