Perspective

Down a short trail,

beneath a small deck,

within a worn boat;

a lonely man.

Gazing out of his window,

upward,

into the night sky,

ears numb to the applause of the breeze, eyes blind to the lust and the greed.

A great house, a brilliant light, wildly alive in the electric air—not two acres of earth away,

yet the only place

he longs to be.

_______

Up a long road,

atop a tall hill,

within a great house;

a lonely man.

Gazing out of his window,

downward,

onto the dark earth,

ears numb to the laughs of his guests, eyes wise to their sarcastic jests.

A worn boat, a soft glow, delicately bobbing in the gentle waters—not two acres of earth away,

yet the only place

he longs to be.

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About robin

...writer, lover, fellow, man; divinely adrift in a sea of inarguable genius and intellectual nuisance. Read@ robinejohnson.wordpress.com Like@ facebook.com/storiesbyrobin and as always, peace, love—and think! View all posts by robin

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