I Am Such A Solitary Man

This much I have learned of me.

I am such a solitary man,

and always have been.

It is how I am.

It is how I feel.

Alone with myself,

with me and just me,

I am content,

I am at peace.

I like the silence,

the quiet mindscape,

scraping thoughts

from the walls of my skull,

freeing my illuminations

from those monastic cells,

and setting them down,

inscribing them somewhere,

alone.

That echoing quiet of the mind

becomes dearer to me

every time it leaves me.

When I was younger,

solitude was an enemy.

It left me alone with myself,

with nobody to stop me

doing all the stupid things

I have done in my life

instead of doing

what I could with my life.

I was not strong enough

to manage myself.

I ran away from those

precious silent moments

of potential,

when I could have made

something good,

but was so afraid of making

something bad

that I made

nothing at all.

And now I am older

and it is too late

for good or bad to matter.

Solitude is now my friend.

Solitude gives me peace,

and I give her

my words.