Shut

In a room with windows open
On a chilly breeze and mixed clouds,
It’s easy to forget the air

Is filled with people’s messages
To themselves about each other,
To each other about themselves.

How fortunate you discovered
Some means of communication
Bodily senses can’t detect—

Although the messages themselves
Deplore the loneliness of souls
Far from embodied presences,

Given the crowds in this world
The off-switches are worth the price
Of sometimes sterile lonesomeness.

To be a contented human,
Even an hour or two alone
Needs a bit of deprivation.