Ambiguous Crescendo to Stillness

The sentence of those without amazement...

He is alone,
With friend, but no side
Neither judgment on shoulder
Nor a heart on his sleeve,
Not unloved, but engulfed not in passion

He is a man, not in shackles
No imprisonment, but freedom is scarce
All roads travelled, yet nothing found
Evolution is playing on
But he becomes no better

He is mumbling to lucid winds
No scents, and soft sounds
In purgatory, in ancient stone
And there are no actions
Nothing amiss, only words

"Where is my solace?"