What is left?

Oh here’s a poem from a couple days ago.

Questioning in the dark
Alone is where I’m left
Without the sounds
It is all without
Only surrounded by doubt
My body cannot rest
There is noting left to tie me down
I am loose, drifting slowly away
Faster and faster with each new moment
But as days fold over one another
I forget who I am and where I came from
I start to look outside myself
And see nothing else
But my vision does not want to be corrupted
In this pale light, un-reachable by definition
New and daunting
Like the burden of carrying someone else’s life
Only it is mine that hangs in the balance
I am the one left here looking out
And yet I am joined by faithful friends
But our paths are sadly reaching separate ways
With the passing of time
I know nothing more
I am left jumbling in and out
Rejecting and caressing the newness
Everything lays on the surface
Every conversation and action
Afraid to be truthful
Connection remains to be found
Packed away with time
Or so all of us would hope
After all the genuine is delicate
Easily broken and so shown to precious few
And so I fear this sadness and this change
As I must dig through layers
All of which are empty, clashing with what is left of me