In Solitude

In solitude of the greatest dimension          
When every person whose eyes know you,          
Whose head they turn by their own will          
To where you stand, to keep and usher,          
But also to fulfill selfish desires, sleeps;    
When heat is weakened by the darkness          
Suddenly, when the windows are all shut          
To trap the mellow warmth remaining,          
But not to shun out laugher, which is gone;          
When all your thoughts, an endless brooding,          
Pinning you down, between sullen past          
And anxious future, whisper of fears,          
But yell to your ears of doubts, as well;          
When, finally, those times are over,          
That kept you busy, and withheld          
The passion, that now bursts into flames,          
But strives still, for sense and meaning,          
         
In this prime solitude of solitudes you know:          
That men, who are living, or have died;                
That life, with its sorrows, and its joys;          
That time, when stagnating, or hastening;          
That love, whether petty, whether strong;          
They are matters beyond our control,  
That have states that come and go,          
And they linger in the heart and memory:          
Things that do hold sense and meaning,          
But only when you face yourself, alone.