It is an empty Greyhound Bus

going nowhere,

or an acre of land

on the moon.

It is what makes boys

want to become men,

and what makes men

become heroes.

Alone is not a bad dream.

It is a tormenting truth.

anyone can cry with his eyes open,

and yet it is a serene element

that can beautify the thought

of perishing.

Still it is the grievous thought

of a never healing wound,

with the disconsolate knowledge that Time heals nothing-really.

Alone is a person you always dream of

who never comes your way,

but is always expected.

It is wishing and hoping

in a night filled room,

or a man waiting to die with his door ajar.

But most of all,

it is the comfortless end

of all things.

-Susan Smpadian

17