Solitude March

Boys-in-the-veld-004

Another treat created by passionwriting and me. Gentle soul she is, gentle words, gentle.

I’m sitting on the shoreline where water and earth does meet,
accompanied by a symphony,
which takes me back a few.
Curled up and alone I was back then.

The winds touched my face,
as I emerged from the house.
I heard the sounds of footsteps that time.
What could be more pleasing to my ears
than leaving Solitude’s quiet behind.

The summer breeze stirred along the eaves,
of houses now to become past;
houses that became the empty shell I was.
wind stirred amongst blossoming treetops,
and pushed me along my way.

I had no other way; I had to move ahead.
I was seeking ways to cut through my Solitude.
The footsteps faded,
as the gush of wind dissolved the echo of marching feet

I had become something of a piece,
a piece of a part of a bigger scheme;
bigger than me, bigger than thought.
I became my own destiny.

I was fighting a lone battle then,
I was looking for my own piece.
Life seemed to be mocking me,
with a house so big and beauty flawless,
I had Solitude as my only friend

Yet I became aware of a new day,
and I became aware of an empty hand.
I embraced what a new thought has conjured,
to make real my way of flight.

I wondered how it would feel to be apart.
Would I finally have the company?
The footsteps once again hovered close,
as Solitude slowly began to tremble.

That was past, and this is now,
a fleeting look into shallow waters
of my past now history.
Then I had the courage to get away,
and today I am free.

Happily, a single tear flows,
in memory of my Solitude.

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5 thoughts on “Solitude March

  1. Pingback: Solitude March « A Shade Of Pen

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