…is a destination

Solitude is a state of mind, a place that only I can go
the silence deafens me, yet it is where I choose to be
time ticking, hours passing, a false measure
the hands of the clock create hope and fear
with no foundation, just a concept dressed in reality’s cloak
running through the night, unheard and unseen
a masquerade of substance
the things I fear the most, call the loudest
emotional alchemy creates art from my darkness
silence flows in the murky depths, slow circular motion
talking to the echoes of my shadows
this is not loneliness, but a cage of my own making
to keep the world out, in the depths I drift
my brushstrokes create masterpieces
in subtle shades of nowhere
carving paths in stone, windows into emptiness
Alice is not in the looking glass
reality whispers too softly to hear
the white rabbit is not running anywhere
the lure of emptiness, seductive and intangible
an empty well beckons, incongruously full of nothing
I toss the coin into the satin below, it has no currency here
nothing to buy, nothing to own, here in the depths, I am alone
loneliness is a destination, a choice that I make
a place where I can lose myself
in the lack of noise and the absence of crowds
undetectable in the depths of the shallows
sleeping under unseen stars, listening to unheard winds
that whisper endlessly into the void
solitude is my canopy under which I am finally free
finally free to be me
floating weightless on the unseen tides
leaving ripples in time that no-one will ever see
no need to hide, here is where I feel truly alive
as the chaos subsides and the noise dies
my solitary soul sighs
© Ann Bagnall