There is a beauty in solitude only the solitary know. There is a sadness in being lonely, only the lonely can know. In solitude and loneliness, in beauty and sadness, the most beautiful poetry of feeling can be known. Indefinable, inexpressible, Oceanic bliss-like satori. A brief enlightenment when the light breaks through the darkness, a glint, a hint of perfect, untouched beauty perfect as freshly laid virgin snow ... or the Dragon's breath, light dew rolling morning mist across a barren lonely moor.

Dawn breaks, darkness fades, warmth grows. The misty-eyed sun salutes the moon smiling over all as new day is born from the eternal dark and lonely night. Voices, footsteps, horns and hoots kill the silent dawn. Another day, new born, drawing fresh breath with neonatal cries and blank, unfocused innocent eyes. From birth to death, the pain we feel with every breath remains undimmed, until the silent, lonely night brings rest to the weary brain. And in the silence, in the night, the softness of the beating heart we feel so close to ours, reminds us once that we were one. But now we are apart the beating of a silent drum, still born, fills my vast yet empty heart for all the love I had to give, I gave to you. And now you're gone, the silent drum beats alone in grief.

And so we go, on and up, forever and forward, marching toward a distant hill stretching up forever. Once we were one yet never to be for life as one together, so now we march an endless route always and alone and never.

Only the brave can draw the knife, sharp and red with blood no more. Cowards breathe forever and again, grim with soul, grinning, smiling laconic to the end. Through the dark night of the soul all thoughts pass and pass away until, the dawn swiftly breaks and the Reaper has his prey.

Too late too soon we see that life is not for living but for bringing life and giving what we have to give without taking. All I have to give I gave, and no more thought of waking.