Stream of Conciousness

A valley, a great depression in the earth surrounded by forest, like a muddy footprint amongst the grass that is the trees around it. The clouds are moving quickly above me, rushing across the dim noon sky in long, skinny, light grey streaks. Down in the valley, however, I would feel none of this commotion of life above sea level, only isolation as if I were inside a bubble beneath the earth's surface, with no cares or worries, but also forever being alone and purposeless in life, with isolation greater than any other. As I try to understand the magnitude of this, a drop of rain falls gently on my head, and yet startles me, as I realize just how long I had been staring over this great, muddy footprint.

I feed a flame within, which so torments me
That it both pains my heart, and yet contains me:
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,
That I had rather die than once remove it.

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel,
My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel;
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me.
To be more happy I dare not aspire,
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.