Tomorrow

Chris Rice sings a lullaby, his voice blending with violin, cello, piano.
I hum along in the empty house full of Christmas decor and incandescent light.
Refreshing a spread of worship songs--dusty--freshly alphabetized, some newly sung.

Sorrowing that we all crowd surf so much,
socially enforcing extroversion and sociopathy.
Loneliness doesn't need a city.
Loneliness doesn't just need a friend.
A friend who is tired of God
weighs on the heart;
when they are gone, the separation is devastating.
Where the spirit is absent,
loneliness is hell.

Craving the presence of a friend
all the more desperately
for the lack of warmth across distance.
Anchored to a material world,
while dreams cloud the air.
What a desperate and bored darkness!
Scrabbling for a door that leads to tomorrow.