Blissful Solitude

For several years now, I have lived a life that is not unlike a long, cloistered path that periodically opens onto colonnades, sometimes lush and welcome, and sometimes harsh and jarring. I have had to, at times, leave that secluded island I live on, and embark on cold, lonely journeys into that world so distant, so far from my own, inhabited by fellow humans whom I seldom understand, that I ache to return to my own soothingly familiar world. Looking back now, I realize that my confinement from the world of others was broken bravely at times, when I ventured into that alien world, ever hopeful that I would find, like others had, through my association with them, that calming essence, which would infuse my soul with peace. But I never have.

There exists between me and the inhabitants of that world a chasm that cannot ever be bridged. If you believe that loneliness is grief, I fear that you will never truly understand what I mean. I prevail yet, one of the last bastions of that sublime, unyielding solitude; mistress of the magnificent ruins of long-forgotten dreams, that now rise in glory, consuming in entirety any sorrow that might have been, and exalting every hope ever conceived in my heart. And I remain here, reveling in the bleak, desolate wilderness, which through it’s very harshness has made me feel so acutely the spine-tingling pleasure of being so alone and yet, so alive!