Can we ever be alone?

Half spins of a neutrino

For every neutrino there exists another with an opposite half spin.

Embers of our souls half spins of a neutrino. Skinny birds, on broken trees burn like coals from old. Black rain from the grimy train, my feathers wet and closed.

How would I How would I know — my need to be alone.

Pine line the winding road In the mist they can seem solitary so. Behind their unhurried neat, neat row, they hide crowds of their kind.

Beneath their honest straight line growth, they creep, cling and wind.

How would they How would they know — my need to be alone.