Comfort

Yet again, I take on a path I am well versed with.
A path of remembrance,
of forgetting and forgiving,
of rediscovering life,
of smiling with tears in my eyes,
of lying still for hours,
weeping in the hollows of my mind.

A path I oft need to go on,
for the lack of life in me,
for the nothingness inside of me,
for the wastefulness of my life,
for the futility of it all.

A path of The Fountainhead,
a walk alongside Roark,
a dive off the high cliff,
a little talk with Gail,
some silent conversations with Dominique.

I go now to read the book of my life. My Fountainhead, The Fountainhead.