Out of the window, beyond my room

An emptiness persists, and hints of gloom

The gold of sun and silver of moon

The dry leaves and branches sewn

And the rest with me in this cocoon

Tell me oh! And how they croon

Wake up O! It’s not yet doom.

 

It’s not yet doom

Though you might be alone

Devoid of a companion, and to darkness prone

With all the wilds and waters flown

Too lost, insignificant and oblivious to the known,

Yet

Not gullible by this giant altitude

You might be lonely

But this ain’t no Solitude!

 

For

Solitude, is not just

the absence of people to have around

to share the vices and virtues profound

But

The lack of memories worth a mound

Which ease the pain and soothe the wound

The doors of heart whose echo pound

Such a silence without a sound

Of times spent sans no gratitude

That, my friend, is what they call Solitude.

 

I am lonely, but not solitary

Yet know not, how to make merry

Staring in the emptiness and lose my gaze

State of a calm, blurring into daze.

For all I have are waters white

Heaving on eyelids, the noon sunlight

Craving for a flicker , the silent night

All I wait is, end be soon

And all they tell me,

O! It’s not yet doom.