Poetry Sunday

Alone

In my ideal world
I isolate myself from the society
that has let me down.
I run through the fields of
golden streams.
I play in the solitude of bliss.
I long to hear the sounds
of rustling leaves.
No voices to distract me;
just peace and quiet.

Even the quiet carries a hum;
a rhythm of cascading nothingness
that takes me to a place in my mind
where I alone can talk to God;
and He can talk back.

I yearn to be left alone.
No cares or wares for me
to treasure; just the basic
needs of food and water.
I need to be alone for it is
where God cradles me and allows
me to cry in His arms.
My eyes unleash a river
as my world gets muddled;
He caresses me as His robe is
puddled ...by my tears.

Am I home yet, Lord?