quiet here, the peace of lonely solitude, reflection
remembering a tilt of head, a slightest voiced inflection
the moments and the glances as the shudder clicked the day
and relentlessly they ticked and spent and now they're gone away
and though the images left here are sweet as honey's taste
the distance and the miles will no doubt wear until they fade
and winds will blow and draw it down like pebbles turn to dust
leaving little more than detritus of longing turned to rust
who am I to weep, it is this loneliness I love.
the deepest pang that fuels the muse, the drive to rise above
the biting pain that draws from me the words so bittersweet
the stories and the epic tales of love, so rare and fleet
it is the desert that I love, naked and so bare
though I drink the sweet oasis these feet will not stay there
in time and of their own they a' wanderin' will go
to wondrous desolation, under the lonely starlight glow
and drifting through the sage in skin so tender and so frail
and gazing to horizon though I know 'tis no avail
for when I find these feet have walked to yonder, jagged rise
there'll be no rest, but a new, compelling path where I'll abide..
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