Solitude is like a
feathered embrace.
Like a swell of moonlight
on dewy,
manicured
grass.
And should you go looking
for the magick--
for the secrets
unveiled
in stillness
and beats
that stretch for miles,
from one
shivering
heart
to another,
you’ll find realms of
untold dreams.
Rheems of
bursting starlight,
of long-squashed fantasies
in demand
of your attention.
Daydreams that unwind
until you’ve found
what you were searching for:
the secret,
long-lost
places
you hadn’t known
were long-since missing.
Without suffering, there is silence.
