Exile of a cosmic human.

 The stone toughens with me. The trees speak with me. The rain falls for me. The wind breathes with me. The shadows lurk by my side. The ice freezes with my exile. The fire burns with my rage. The earth spins with me. The moon keeps silence with me. The sun shines with my essence. The stars glow with my eye. The vast, borderless cosmos meets my gaze. All of it understands me, or even if not, at least aligns with me. It is only the human race and civilization I do not feel tethered to, nor can I. Not by flesh. Not by language. Not even by sorrow. Humans speak a tongue that never belonged in my throat. But what about a life completely deprived of stone, trees, rain, wind, shadows, ice, fire, the world, the moon, the sun, stars, and the cosmos, confined in a tiny cage right in the middle of people, going on trapped?