Holy Loneliness
Branches curl their gnarled fingers
Sprouting leaves as thick as hair
I’m older, but drifting alone again
Through the botanic gardens
Roaming the hot houses
I taste that chewable air
Holy loneliness
I hold you dear to me…
The roughness of weathered bark
contrasts the delicacy of fresh stems
Poking from fractured seeds
I feel the world breathe
I’m taking part, I made my peace
I don’t want to be found
Holy loneliness
I hold you dear to me…
Time alone becomes a drug
Too intoxicating to give up
Finding your own rhythm
As you marinade in sensation
The whole world against your skin
No, I don’t want to be found
Holy loneliness
I hold you dear to me…
And it may well be
No one ever sees
My masterpiece…
Holy loneliness
I hold you dear to me…
Tomas Waters, 