What is life,
but an immeasurable unit
searching endlessly
for meaning beyond.
The power to observe
more clearly
with the inner eye.
Solitude tortures many.
Yet this silent companion,
an alter ego
to the perceptive ilk.
A stranger among men in this world ~
inflicted with consternation,
unless
we have the strength
to strive for deeper understanding;
to expand the creative milieu;
to alleviate the conventional restrictions;
to eradicate superficiality.
Must retain our individual identities,
if life is to hold… a purpose.
© Brenda Aksionov 1980
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