Silence in solitude.
A moment’s passing,
But not a sound.

Tranquility in loneliness.
The comforting focus of the self.
The thoughts, the time.
None but my own.

Freedom in space.
Bound to no hand.
Waiter to no command.
Lead by I, myself, and me.

Pride in privacy.
Confined and innermost secrets,
Both sacred and dark.
None to tell, none to hear.
Perfection is near.

Relief in the detachment.
Escaping all, and leave the world behind.
The peak of peace, of heart and soul.

Rest in seclusion.
Appeased by separation from the crowd.
The hive swarms the flower, but drone no more.
To the light of the sun now.
Relaxing, warm.

Blessings of isolation.
It’s all one could need.
The charms of reclusiveness,
So it seems to be.