You wonder why I like being all by myself, the
appeal that I see in the state. But you are unaware
of its real definition. Not merely a state and
not merely a feeling, but a moment. A priceless moment.
And it is really not much of a secret, its
beauty. For the beauty of being alone – listen closely –
is that you're alone in the most beautiful of places.
When you're watching the sun set
on the balcony of your apartment,
making paintings of fiery colors as
it leaves the vast sky;
when you're sitting on a park swing,
moving forwards and backwards,
hearing soft bursts of wind spilling
secrets in sighs;
when you're at home by the window,
watching tears fall from the heavens,
tracing your finger on the glass as
drops race down the pane;
or when you're under the covers,
dark engulfing the night,
dreaming of scattered stolen memories your
hands have yet to gain;
these are the places to be one and alone.
The seemingly insignificant moments
silently uttering, mumbling – listen closely.