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
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