"Waterfalls" Is it age, is it lack of adoration, is it Regret there’s no ladder to the clouds? Whatever, we inhabit the quotidian, as we must, While… - Charles Wright

Lonesomeness. Morandi, Cezanne, it's all about lonesomeness.
And Rothko. Especially Rothko.

I’m starting to feel like an old man
alone in a small boat
In a snowfall of blossoms,
Only the south wind for company,
Drifting downriver, the beautiful costumes of spring
Approaching me down the runway
of all I’ve ever wished for.

Voices from long ago floating across the water.
How to account for
my single obsession about the past?
How to account for
these blossoms as white as an autumn frost?
Dust of the future baptizing our faithless foreheads.
Alone in a small boat, released in a snowfall of blossoms.

All those nights looking up at the sky, wanting to be there, away from the grief of being here.