Cassus Vas of Solitudo est Usquequaque P

Cassus Vas of Solitudo est Usquequaque Plenus





(The Empty Cup of Solitude is Always Full)









(There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic...) Colette









When Admiral Byrd stayed behind in Antarctica,





did he know how alone loneliness itself is,





a hand that floats above the earth?





I have known, seen, that hand white with sorrow





wave at me through the window tightly shut.





But how we wrestle with our shadows





as Admiral Byrd did,





intoxicated by the silent fumes,





maddened inexorably,





as we are by solitude and its stalemate.





We talk, write, walk down streets





where ghosts gather into form,





where Antarctic snow becomes





the foundation of rescue,





where our snow restores





our sanity and the seeing between us all.