Cold Reality

The destructive winds from the north and west
have finally calmed at least here but now
its wrath has traveled east unsettling
the Atlantic coast and shores.
Outside my door a wet grey
has been left behind.
The once ornamental crimson, pumpkin orange leaves
are sprawled covering the lawns
giving a rubble look from broken dead limbs
and twigs fallen from now barren trees

Cold air and a dirty gray abounds
A stiffness of my joints, a muscular soreness
has invaded my incarnate shell
where even in my soul,
my mind has slowed giving way
to an introspective tone.

A battle within of a feeling of being ‘alone’
and the feeling of ‘lonely’ is a consequence.
It comes not just from the ambiance of the season
but as a result of a self indulging cognition
in considering the queries of doubt and ambivalence
posed in my head to whether a reality
of a Divine presence or even spirituality as in the Tao,
‘damn you’ Stephen Hawking’s, Nietze, Sartre, etc

‘Alone’, is a soldier sitting, barely breathing
so as not to make a sound, his heart races
Sweat flies onto the quiet mist
off his face because of the incessant
shaking of his body from desperate fear

‘Alone and lonely’, is the child in Haiti,
parents and siblings taken from her by the hand
of Nature’s wrath and consequential disease,
sitting all alone in dirt and debris
her tattered shirt and dirt basted little face
gives her the look as if she's part of the rubble.
She's in pain from broken heart and blood dried wounds
she's lost in her tears now dried and crest on her face
and no one sees her, no one comes.

Cold reality?