In my Room at Night instead of Outside with the Tribe

The Doors music
reverberates
softly in my ears
dulling my anger
sharpening my imagination
I rest easy in my chair, it is here
I am at peace,
though, still deep within
I am longing for the touch of her
whoever she may be
so In absence of that, not unhappily
I sit and type myself away
my soul leaps to my hands
and presses each key
and I mistake thought
for soul sometimes, but not when
I am whole
not when I have concentrated
not when thought is devoted impartially to senses
and the soul given free reign
of decision
do I hear do I see
do I feel
the world breathing