Q + A
This lack of acceptance for who I am
This burden of abandonment
Burns from my crown to my root
Dissolving all ambition, all motivation
Why am I here if I'm not seen, or heard, or felt?
Find that boy you left on the mountain top
The Cheviots have raised him.
He's strong, mature, resilient
And listens to the spectres of solitude
Whispering his name
Drawing him to seek his place
In the valley below
There he will find tender shoots of peace
Unfurling in the early morning dappled light.