the work of loneliness

I work with the clay of loneliness, 

modeling it into the want of need.

for what skill are the hands of the mind

that come to life more than metaphor?

I question looking into the mirror,

as if response is 

faster than the speed of gaze.

waiting on my stare to soften,

as if for a passage beyond contemplate,

beyond inner head-lights of facing road weary.

waiting for self-generative 

to have an inner warmth to it,

to a private world 

beyond what self-say offers.

taking me to the headwaters of emergence,

where emanation makes out. 

to be self evident,

to merge into self-love,

without the need of evidentials, 

in a mirror stare-down,

as if reality is ever the proving grounds . . .