Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

And would as soon surmise As in its grave go plumbing To ascertain the size -- The loneliness whose worst alarm Is lest itself should see -- And perish from before itself For just a scrutiny -- The horror not to be surveyed -- But skirted in the dark -- With conscienceness suspended -- And being under lock -- I fear me this -- is loneliness -- The maker of the soul Its caverns and its corridors Illuminate --or seal -- -LadyBattousai