If I still have a soul.

This is the way I feel. Sometimes. Fortunately, not all of the time. My world is crumbling. All around me. Maybe it’s my fault. I don’t fit anymore. In the political, social and economic order. I’m at odds. With too many friends and associates. Over how we relate to each other. Everything seems in disarray. No more peace and tranquility. I withdraw. Retreat. To the safety of my cocoon. Only now, I’m calling it my cave. A more hostile place than a homey cocoon. I’ve fallen. And can’t get up. Figuratively. Literally. Every which way. Yes, I’m confused. Descending. Possibly into depression. I’m fearful. Afraid. Scared. Uneasy.  I crave. To separate myself. From the rest of the world. Better to find solace. From within my soul. That is, if I still have a soul. --Jim Broede