Alone Together

A Light in the Dark

I bestow upon you, reader, a brief and humble poem of my own creation! It’s a little different from what I usually post, but I hope you get something worthwhile from it. Enjoy!


Alone Together

A single light shines among many alike,

The solitary heart feels and shifts and learns.

One mind fingers thoughts that were cherished in times long since past, or only days before,

By another being strangely similar, and intimately separate.

All watch as cars flash and people fleet, driving and living and doing what has already been done, yet

Few remember that all shine together, that

Every light emits its essence from the root, from the base which has given what we mindlessly accept.

This light, this feeling, these thoughts, this essence and emotion,

Comes from a giver called higher power, intelligent being, creator, who made these things that

Cling to one soul and the next and every other.

Easy enough to forget, our distant unity is idolized in strife, and pushed aside

When we choose to believe there is no other path, but to be alone,

Producing inside a dark virus, a web of depression and sickness, sewing feet to soil and coating eyes with plaster,

Blinding a servant to the truth of existence.

“Worthless” and “scum” and “stupid” are sewn over the face of those diseased, forever to remain until

Ripped away by the surgeon who placed within what we often come to hate, reminding us of beauty, and gently whispering

Of the unique stamped on every seeker, of the irony of the likeness we share.

A paradox of an alien kind speaks of fellowship and purpose, revealing an unsolvable and acceptable mystery to all,

To all who live in isolation and traffic,

To all who live alone together.


Similar to Weaving, a poem that I posted a while back, I have a few questions for you to consider:

Are you reminded of any geeky characters or stories?

I am reminded of both Harry Potter and Aragorn (from The Lord of the Rings), along with many other heroes or heroines who often doubted themselves and who, at one point or another, felt they had to fight the battle alone.  Is it just me, or do we all think like that sometimes?

Does this have any spiritual significance to you?

I wrote this poem after considering a strange irony—the fact that we are all separate, living our own lives, and, yet, we all are intimately connected, all being created by the same God and possessing similar brains and bodies and emotions.  I love irony!

What are your thoughts?



real roots

Mind if I deviate from my usual methods by sharing a poem that I wrote?



Tendrils in roots and flexible wood

Weave forward with ferocity, timidity, strength.

Spring from an oft-slumbering, muddy

Mass of robbery and aspiration,

Whose hollow eyes, yet open, remain closed and

Glaze with fault, not seeing what they observe, or want to,

Driving writhing shoots into stubborn rocks and clumps, which

Hamper paths ahead, and streak

Journey-goers with fear, pain, regret.

Snaking worms struggle to form finite coherency and

Break the shell by dragging away the dirty crust.

Wriggle lengths farther than thought had once carried them,

Look back for the future, grasping and learning in

Slow increments of time.

Push through resilient soul and drudge, hoping to plant a

Seed and spring to life for their maker,

Erupting into leafy, sun-light sprinkled branches and

Spiny carvings for many to touch, break, admire,

Strive to bring worth to that which sent them forth, or

Illuminate the little buried somewhere hidden.

In a bright and ominous moment of agony and success, they may.

Tendrils weave forward in time.

Two questions:

Does this poem have any spiritual significance to you? If so, what?

I’ll be honest—I’m not sure I thought of God very much when I wrote this. However, that certainly doesn’t mean you can’t have gotten something out of it.

Do any fictional characters come to mind? If so, who and why?

I thought of Ron Weasley from the Harry Potter book series. Why? Well, being the youngest of six boys and the best friend of world-famous Harry, Ron must have felt a bit of what this poem expresses. In fact, I think proof of this is found in a few of the books, such as the fourth and the sixth.

What do you think?