Secluded Life

Wrapped in somnolent skin Deprived Of any sensation whatsoever. Dispassionate, Insensible. Vacant eyes dissolved in smudges Of weariness. And behind, deep inside – a secluded life. It should be careless. True, it is indifferent to Material world, External disturbances, Even to its own Body – as if the body is a foster child Molested by the malcontent Father Neglected by the mother who's tired Of it all. But inside, deep inside there is Its preoccupation with itself. It feels the external But doesn't feel As a part. Inside life is lived Truths are revealed. It breeds, it grows, it protects, it nourishes itself. It loves. Secluded – because able to be constructed And expanded on its own. AND because it is in its nature To be secluded.