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.
