The easy way

The easy way

Is to forget

That other people think

And feel

Much the same as you.

They ruminate and cogitate.

Calibrate their lives

In terms of loss,

And love.

Nurture pain

Deep inside,

With its dark familiarity

That eats huge chunks of hope,

And saps their

Youthful energy,

Innocent egocentricity,

The certain belief

That they are the only ones

Who have ever lived.

Love is

An invention

Of an inner world

Only available

To them.

Sentience,

A concept

So overwhelming

It is easier to avoid

Than to face.

But to think such aloneness

Is unique,

When surrounded

By such evident,

Self containment,

Is a journey

Into oblivion.

To forget the world

Revolves around us all,

We are each and every one,

The centre of our own

Internal universe,

Orbiting every other,

Desperate to find

Connectivity,

To bring a sense

Of order to a world

Absorbed in self,

And trapped

In narcissistic

Reflection,

Is a fruitless naivete,

That can linger.

And hinder,

The growth of knowing

Love, through

The eyes of another,

Understanding difference,

And learning to embrace it,

As you would

Yourself.