To Be Crusoe






To find within the twisted corridors,

busy, hour on tortured hour,

a bower such as yours.

To don the skins and woven hat,

to be becalmed in crystal blue

and be for a moment you.

Stranded in a paradise of peaceful ease,

where loneliness is a lack of fellows

not a lack of peace.

To be truly one,

in the company of none,

and step into the picture

of sand and shining sun,

to hunt the green way

from rising day to evening calm

and find no storm,

peace in every silent form

happy in the company of one.


© Dave Kavanagh @


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