Solitude
It is everywhere around me,
No one to share with but me.
It is too lonely to know.
But it is a great life to live.
Listening to the humming of the flies,
The squeak of the mouse.
Walking down the wood under the shade,
Relieved from the scorching sun.
Everywhere as silent as the cemetery.
You could hear the diving of the falling leaves,
The rustling of the withered flowers.
Nothing fills the head,
As you watch the sun lost into the horizon.
But the humming of the cool breeze.
Watching the stars,
As they shimmer with beautiful glows.
Elevating your spirit,
As you gallivant down the aisle.
Followed by grins of the sun,
Telling me it is a new day.
Everything tends to pose questions,
To which the answers are unclear.
I prefer the corridor,
Where I talk to my shadow,
And interact with my poem book.
The best friend I share things with.
The walk was lonely,
And has always been alone.
Watching the strength of the eagle,
Unimaginable courage to soar through the storm.
It is just a long walk to freedom,
The bravest walk ever.
Curiosity is the ambience,
Melancholy is the covering cloud.
Inspirations quench the thirst,
Self-esteem is the driving force.
Everything altogether,
Speaks about who I used to be,
And who I grew up to be.
Many trials of solving life puzzles,
But pieces were missing.
It was a changed story,
When the ice of love melt into my heart,
And entered a boat called friendship.
When all I ever wanted was to leave my world;
My beloved abode;
Where the ambience is austere,
And the strength is lone walk.
Many destinies have intertwined.
As they adorned my world with so much mirth.
Many lessons were learned,
Many ideas were forgotten,
Demise of days have been met,
Many years have gone missing,
In the fog of time.
Sorrow sank into oblivion,
And thousands of words were never spoken.
“Don’t hold on to me”, says my past.
The ball is in my court,
Knowing how feeble my passion is.
I have to choose which part of the story I have to hold on to,
Which of my chronicles should the world know?
How am I going to live the moment?
What story should people write about me?
Life is like a see-saw,
One time you will be up,
The other the reverse.
But I could talk about my past,
Because I see my purpose of breathing,
As my date of seeing tomorrow expires.
If in a thousand world,
Or in ten thousand lifetimes,
I would love to live that great life again,
A life of solitude.
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