Every step we take, we take alone,
from first tottering to last stumble.
Every pain we feel, we feel alone,
and joys shared, ephemeral as day lilies.
Laughter flies on swift wings, waves crash,
colonising the empty strand with sound.
Alone we stand and fall, drink the day,
the song of birds and Mozart’s music,
sipping with a single straw.
Some cheat the solitude with crowds,
the sporting din, the shoulder to shoulder
with a single voice or the lights
and laughter of bars, the twittering neon
and the false bonhomie of strangers.
The end for all is the same,
as the beginning is the same
as the long years in-between,
the thoughts that bounce back and forth
through echoing chambers,
until they fade