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I entered this realm in search;

yearning for a place to grow,

to improve this meager skill-

upon the desolate landscape

I came, not to conquer or subjugate,

but, to extend the boundary of myself;

unshackled by conventional thought.

A wide expanse of wounded souls,

cowering in fear of pain, disenchantment;

fearing each remark, each comment

is an affront; a personal assault

are all that greet me.

Carefully, I step, so as not to alter

or interrupt the lives of others.

Wounded ego’s; lives that find no succor,

no solace for their pain

greet me at each turn and I withdraw.

Oh! Where are the like-minded, the bold;

who yearn to create this new language

of true peace and love?

A soul, so similar it seemed, beckoned,

and, in hasteful impudence; I responded

only to find a fearful creature shivering at the sound of simple joy.

Charon, come.

I am weary from the effort to communicate

with those I thought might understand.

Two coins have I for passage,

bring forth your chariot and cross me

over the Styx, for this wasteland

is far too strange for one such as me.