To endure the quiet desperation

Which are the elements that signify and identify the human condition? What is this unchallenged reason that keeps the fire within burning and if lost the flames are extinct?

I am not making much sense probably ...the thing is it gets more and more difficult to see...

I would gladly live in the passion and poetry and drama and lyricism of Byron and Keats and Shelley and Burns and so many others...

But I live in the shadows of those ignorant of the story of Endymion who first told me that a thing of beauty is a joy forever...who first told me to open the eyes of my mind to the realm of the fantasy and spirituality of things as eternal as life in this universe itself.

Oh where is that beauty my fair hero? And where is that one human being to love another for which all other work has been but preparation my beloved poet?

I linger in a solitude that lacks all the romantic spirituality and is full of quiet desperation. My solitude has not the eternal steps of Rome or the fountains of Tivoli. Instead only silence...

My spirit is strong but my will is weak...I cannot seek comfort in pray that would only be a lie and a betrayal I can only do what so many have done before me...I must endure.