My poor soul; afraid to look-
Thinks he's read me, closed the book,
Moved on now, to brighter things-
But no one's told my heart- it sings.
It sings, and yes, it trembles too,
Because it hates to be the fool
That waits and waits, till hope is worn,
Then sits and mopes- alone; alone.
We should not fear to be alone,
When each one finds his heart's a home;
Though others hearts might make us sigh,
We're our own company, by and by.
How true we're our own company. Being alone does not mean being lonely. Liked the whole poem but mostly the last line.
The last look at life will always be alone; let's just hope what we gaze upon is the Paradise that awaits our homecoming. That last stanza is superb. Wonderful writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like this one Patti - guess being alone is a different from being lonely.