It’s as if I’ve become famous. Time I must share
With a whole world of others leaves never enough
To where I do my own thing. I love privacy.
Only in such a state can I truly be me.
When I don’t make escape time, I make of life tough.
I consider aloneness holier than prayer.
The phone rings too damned often. Too much I’m on stage
And performing the best version of me I can
But the real me and that me – I get them confused.
Natural instinct dictates that I be excused
From the things never meant to be part of my plan.
Sometimes I avoid others rather than engage.
Often I’ll pull the shades down. While quiet in bed
For a few unmarked hours, I’ll get something back
That I lost in the process of playing a role
That seems much too well fitting. Is that my true goal?
Nothing but good emerges from my keeping track
Of the self that I rather unconsciously shed.
I can get back the juices just being away
From the presence of others. The best remedy
For a cluttered existence is to be alone
For a while, at least. Then you’re truly on your own
And responsible for who your best self should be,
And such graceful fulfillment you cannot betray.