Loneliness delays, obscures, 

The inevitable dawn of Joy. 

I can choose to hide within a shadow 

For as long as I like, 

But the sun is a constant available friend. 

When I will step into its light 

is my mind’s decision.

Whatever I clutch close at heart, 

And breath my life into, 

Becomes obfuscating vapor, 

Blindingly unreal despite its appearance. 

And by pretending to see what is not there 

I hurt myself in the grasping. 

By believing phantoms could satisfy

By worshipping ghosts and illusions,

I see a body, a brother, made real: 

A poor substitute for truth. 

And it is a lonely life indeed 

When illusion is all I see. 

I must place everything that holds me here

On the altar.