No one knew why he sat alone
at the rear of the bench rows on the last pew
he usually arrived early and left last
never meeting anyone’s eye...
no one ever knew why
he lived in solitude in the old stone cottage
that sits across the churchyard’s view
his wanderings took him away most days
but he could never leave
the private thoughts that persisted upon him
some insist he was once a rich man
with a learned mind - based on the rooms of books
that he hosted carefully in lines of shelves
these all were meticulously marked with notes
that allowed slight insights into the complexities
then again, no one ever met him to know
nor bothered to alter his nonconforming path
everyone assumed that his life was either his prize
or his torment – in any case, his choice;
he did sit alone at
church – did he not?
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