I yearn for Silence every day,
Otherwise brimming with the noise
Of all those expectations.

How euphoric it is to sit in quiet,
With my tea cup,
The stack of letters laying ignored to my left,
And be in that liberating solitude.

To watch the wind rustle through the rosemary *** on the porch,
And be utterly nothing
But myself.

There is no pantomime in the stillness,
No role to play in tranquility.
Shirk your persona!
Unshackle that heavy façade!
In the darkness we all release that sigh of relief,
Satisfied by the invisibility,

By the absence of another.

Sit down and surrender to the waves of green
Be at peace, lie back, blend into the serene
All not matters, tomorrow never knows
Drift away into an extraterrestrial doze

Flutes will guide yourself down the lake of incense
Warm fires dance on your body, never breaching your defense
Voices chant a mantra, Hare Hare Krishna
Accept the beautiful universal dogma

All humans liquify in space into one single being
A river of herbs, a location worth seeing
The beauty of living, the meaning within
So join the spirit dance, become enlightened.

Gently blows the wind
Like the caress of long lost love
I sigh with pleasure
Behold!

The languid moon
Weaves its tapestry on the forest floor
I tread on ****** paths
In the woods unexplored

Whose woods are these? I know not
Whose sonorous voice i hear?A siren of yore.
A midnight angel is nigh
I swoon.

And so this wonderous scene
Plays on in the magical night
Surrounds me in a beatific glow
And i awake from a dream so sweet.

Secreted away in my den of peace,
Blissfully falling into an undisturbed sleep.

Cocooned in toasty linen blue sheets,
Descending into deep serenity.

The earths landscape stands statuesque and still,
Long-limbed branches motionlessly tranquil.

A heady winters breeze filled with festive pleasantries,
The moon adorned with a crisp angelic glow.

Charcoal clouds cruising across the hushed atmosphere,
A transient moment free of stress and fear.

A night filled with harmony and content,
Shielding against any form of threat.

I like to read alone. I always move to the far
back of the bus to do so.
I like to listen to music alone. When I leave
home to go somewhere or when I am on my
way back.
I like to draw alone. I find it easier to be lost
in my fantasy world than deal with reality,
which seriously *****.
Where I go, I always find some tree to look at.
One that stands strong, proud and single.
It stands, away from other trees and it's
content.
Even when lovers pass me, young and old.
Or laughing children from preschool.
Or obnoxious teens, in and out of highschool
Or the elderly with their grandchildren.
My gaze is on the tree still.
Facing the sky, I often wonder why that is.
A benefit to being alone is that you're happy
with your own peace. There's no drama.
You get comfortable with who you are and
you can find yourself.
I like being alone. It doesn't mean I'm lonely.
I couldn't bare being lonely...

On the lake
Sits a toad,
An ugly thing
Three years old
With boils,
large lumps,
And a croak
That challenges
The voice
Of an old woman
Who smokes.
Placidly he stares
Off in space,
And doesn't care
What takes a glance
And passes upon his lake.
He is a simple thing,
Three years old
Admiring tranquility
On a quiet lake.