a place we've all been before...

Loneliness
pablo neruda

The not happening was so sudden
that i stayed there for ever,
without knowing, without their knowing me,
as if i were under a chair,
as if i were lost in the night-
so was that which was not,
and so have i stayed for ever.

I asked the others after,
the women and the men,
what they were doing with such confidence,
and how they had learned their living;
they did not actually answer,
they went on dancing and living.

It is what has not happened to one
that determines the silence,
and i don't want to go on speaking
because i stayed there waiting;
in that place and on that day
i have no idea what happened
but now i am not the same.

* i'm not 'there' right now, just thought i'd share a fly poem.