A
man,
slyly
hidden
in plein-air,
Lays silent and waits.
He is isolated, but not dead.
A man invisible, but not lifeless.
He claims elusiveness in his stance,
shrouding in surroundings - masked in a veil -
he gulps a large breath to contain a fleet of sentience.
A watchman - apart from the whole - empty of all motion.
Straining to eschew footsteps in the brush, withal immobile.
A stationary reed, quashing true self, to blend into what they want him to be. Still, a shadow of himself. A solitary tree in a crowded forest.
Seclusion
at its
finest.