Tattery

Tattered rag of my life,

too tragic to tell of,

left to languish unto anguish,

I still manage to shake it off.

Still, I'm tattered beyond appearance,

l'anguish ubiquitous by my side.

I reach out, but very few understand,

nurture & cultivate affection precious.

Not alone, I see many who are, though

many crowd them, worse off than I,

in this tragedy of separation, when oneness,

undivided, lies so very close deep within,

toward the edges of eternity, its shores

shining bright & close, invisible to them.

In my tattery though, this one understands,

in l'anguish, melancholia nearby, waiting,

its brother in ubiquity.

--RK, 8:03pm, 10/26/2013