I sat on the banks of the Humber,

on that old bench, 

watching the sun set into the river.

That scene has never lost its magic,

and its ability to move me.
‍

It was quiet, as I sat

surrounded by the beauty of nature.

But I also rested among the shadows of the past.

The burned in memories.

The people and places left and lost somewhere

upriver. 

I sat there and finally understood Rilke’s words,

“I am too alone in this world, and not alone enough.”
‍

It was quiet, except for the rustling wind

which rush and roared

like crashing waves through the branches

and leaves.

As if the universe was reusing the sound.

Meanwhile, the cool water gently rolled along.

Everything bathed in gold and verdant green.
‍

And I thought, I am too alone in this world

and not alone enough.
‍

Birds chirped and sang;

ducks and geese floated calmly on the slow-moving current.

So beautiful, as I soaked in the last few moments of warmth.

I hoped that the shorter night would be better for me,

for I was too alone in this world and 

not alone enough.
‍

Another loud gust through the trees

drowned out the other sounds.

A few other people strolled past,

as fading light and shadow danced on the ground,

and as the sun continued to set on us all.

It was time to continue my long walk,

along the paved and unpaved paths,

to nowhere.
‍

It was quiet there on the banks of the Humber,

and I desperately tried to make the moment holy.

But I felt too alone in this world,

and not alone enough.