Solitude is not absence,
it's a fullness with peace of mind.

It does not echo with longing
but settles like dust
in the corners of the soul
where noise once lived.

No doors slams,
no voices compete.
Only breath,
only stillness.

Time unfolds differently here-
not in urgency,
but in presence.

A cup held in both hands,
a window watching the wind,
a thought allowed to finish.

Solitude does not ask for permission.
It simply arrives
when everything else
has left.

And in that quiet,
something blooms