By Will
I go begging door to door, for divine love,
Carry me to a world beyond, these aching limbs,
My lover always alone, while surrounded by others,
Ten thousand thoughts, about why I am less,
Like an oasis in a desert, I am a foolish son,
Inferior to anything under heaven’s sky,
She share’s my pleasure, but not my pain,
This poem calls, for love to cure.
inPsychotherapy 
Fantastic to see a poem by you, Will. A poem of profound sadness. I very much relate to this pain and there is a Tai Chi saying that I recently found, which says, “The pain of being is eternal.”
Thanks Q, I really appreciate your comments. It’s not often I write poetry and I am glad that you could relate to this.
This poem was well worth waiting for, Will ~ like Quirina, it leaves me stirred with emotions: aloneness, smallness, worthlessness … & the loudest silent cry for ‘divine love’ … beautifully written 🙂 x
Hi Peter, thanks so much for the comments, I think you have some idea when I write poetry large shifts are going on. I am glad that you enjoyed this. : )
A beautiful but deeply profound statement on the loneliness and isolation of life.
Thanks so much for your comment, much appreciated : )