All the lights are out
save for a halogen lamp;
I sit in its cast circle
a halo searching for
an angel, cross-legged and
straight-backed I read Napoleon
Machiavelli, Sun Tzu
and a Bette Davies biog.
Devoid of drugs, love,
chaos or a schedule
I find solace in books
for the first time in my life.
Here for the first time is
a semblance of routine
a welcome discipline and
a wealth of knowledge
an insight into great minds to
remind I’m not alone
in my militant thinking, my
desire to lead from the front
written confirmation that my
strength is my weakness and my
weakness is my greatest asset
for it is that which makes us human.
Here, in the pages, I search for
answers but forget the questions
I keep a dictionary by my side
and learn a new word every day.
I trace the words with my finger
and I know my lips are moving
but there is no-one here
to see them, no-one to
break the silence that
for a few moments at least
seems finite, only for the
sun to then rise again
whereupon I will close my books
conclude my studies, my meditations
and step out from the circle
of light to stretch like a cat
then slowly pad my way to the boudoir
clicking the lamp off on the way.
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