Solitude

I cannot come in from the frost
To go and slacken by a fire
Caught in a warm mesmerism
Comfortably detached from life

No sense is assuaged out here
Where pride and vanity are lost
To infinite mysticism
Severing ego like a knife

Sharpen the spirit at all cost
In the real places that made me
A citadel of glass prisms
Where diverse dimensions are rife

An ambrosial passion embossed
A shimmering asterism
Remains so warm and luminous
A man alone free of strife

Every ounce of me I exhaust
Nature is my hypnotism

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I wrote this poem in a lengthened form of a French bref double, which usually only has 3 quatrains and a couplet. Here I’ve employed 4 quatrains and a couplet all with octosyllabic lines. It has an unusual rhyming scheme which I like.