To my friend of carpe diem

A friend of mine once asked me why'd
You live without a will to live:
Without the will to love, to try
Escaping from domestic reef,
Say carpe diem every time
Like life is art, 'cause it's meant to be;
Just seize the day and multiply
The moment's joy and you'd be free!

To you, my friend,  I'd answer that:
Il penseroso, memento mori.
In solitude I am! Instead
Of feeling lost and being sorry
As free is disconnected nomad
So free I am from cognate worries.
We're two poles of the same man:
If you are Whig,  I'm inborn Tory.

But to be cut from life's feast,
From time-consuming misconnections
And never find the human being
With whom you'll built an airy mansion,
And be indulged in private greed -
Possess no one, be no possession;
I'm loyal, m' friend, to my own creed -
My solitude. My art. Sensation.

And as you do, I'm human too,
Not maximal, not an extremist;
Sometimes we really have no clue
'bout when we move from floor to ceiling.
And when you'd say - I think, not soon -
You've changed your mind on carpe diem,
Presume, I'd fled from my lagoon,
My carpe diem for you 'll be here.