Hermit Poem by Barry Middleton

Loneliness
is the cost
of frail protection.
A hermit's way
is safely to observe
and not participate.
Despair is a quiet retreat,
a reassuring lover,
an ease,
no strife, no striving.
Love is a foolish child
busy with knowing
nothing of night,
a candle that dies a bit
with every hour
of its expression.
Silence and raindrops
are a ticking clock.
A dark river
runs through it all
and down
to a boundless
universal.
Gods are content
in their isolation
for they do not know pain.