GENTLEMAN OF PANACHE

When words are too weighty for the mouth, the soul weeps in anguish, Mine is howling unceasingly presently. Regardless of what I do, there is no way to console it, I feel withered and gloomy, Expressions flee! I feel lonely, I'm lonely in some horribly deep way, For a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely and how deep this horrible feeling runs, It jolts me to be this lonely because it seems ruinous. Safe haven I seek in my pen and ink, Somewhere, mixed in with all this ink, is my bliss, Tears are words that need to be written. Ho! Ho! Ho! When I write, my heart heals, my woes are drowned! I am a genius of sadness, I immerse myself in it, I separate its numerous strands, and I appreciate its subtle nuances. I am a prism through which sadness is divided into its infinite spectrum. I choose to write because it's perfect for me. It's an escape, a place I can go to hide. It's a friend, when I feel out casted from everyone else. It's a journ

Much ink has been spilled by an array of authors in a motivated endeavor to theorize the elementary of human connection; sadly, no one is closer to understanding it thus far! I must confess, I have grown entirely profound of this phenomenon myself and I have since plunged into the discussion by making myself a subject of study. I have engaged in it for a while now, this chat on human connection. Though sometimes I wonder if I am engaged in soliloquy as opposed to a conversation of merit; it feels, every so often, like I am standing on one side of a wide chasm shouting across, and wondering if I hear any response out there or if it is my own voice echoing back to me. From my side of the canyon, I habitually reflect that the search of unity with another is the font of much of the world’s joy and unhappiness of equal measure;it brings the best out of the world and the worst too on occasion. In an endeavor to make logic of this phenomenon, I have endured through a series of curate