Apologies

At a distance
Time is but a blur
In isolation it is but a foe, often a friend
In the self imposed prison of my mind
Time ceases to exist
At these crossroads I often speak to you
The words mean nothing
In this century it is white noise, earlier banter
Yet, I do
Senselessly , yet I do
While on the other side
You are
There is nothing that seems logical in this
Yet you try to make some sense of it
Of all those kind minutes you gave
Were laid to waste by this arrogance slave
It is but a facade, a charade, nothing else
And an apology needs to be made
So let me offer a bouquet of such
One for the platitudes
One for the hours
One for the missed morning sunlights
One for the the rupture of your routines
And so I step down from such transgressions
And fly back to my solemn self