Sitting alone on a remote site, in my small tent for the night, cold outside. No contact all alone, after a while it gets a tad claustrophobic, no matter how wide the horizon.

voices, I hear voices

who is that

that still small voice

sounds so familiar

oh, it’s just me



starting to sound distant

I’ll just keep calling

hoping against hope

that the door opens

to where?



at last it opens

but wait, there is no one there

that still small voice

chasing me away

saying begone



no solace

walls close in

horizon stretches beyond

longing for contact

 that human touch

at last

….

oh, it’s just me

© 2018 Michael D Emmerich