Nothing But My Thoughts

I squeeze my eyes
tightly shut.
I press my fingers
against them,
making the darkness I see
complete.
The darkness
begins to fade,
to part,
to drift,
to lighten,
like a foggy veil
pushed into oblivion
by the wind.

I'm sitting under a tree,
listening;
the breeze sighs
through the trees,
leaves rustle,
shake loose,
slowly drift
to the ground.

I'm alone,
by myself,
on an island,
in the center of
the universe;
a universe
of wild dreams,
of hopes,
desires,
of prayers.

I'm alone,
with nothing
but my thoughts.

W. James Beard, Jr.