It’s funny this
alone the lack 
of lonely the 
absence of need
time slows and 
its hunger too
shifting sands of 
desire sent to 
sky by gusts
of lust turning 
same to dust
and the must
turns to rust 
in this place 
I call peace

I don’t 
miss for 
what I
had is
mine and 
no other 

There is 
this dark 
which once 
frightened me 
that I 
now call 
friend for 
it is 
here where 
I find 
that I
am light 

I’d rather think 
of a you
with which to
be than be 
with any other 
for the you
that I have 
always already sought 
is really me

It’s funny 
this place 
I am 
burrow den
hamlet cave 
I’ve found 
has place 
for one 
no other 
or more 
is ever 
needed to 
make home