The Solitary Soul’s

“The Solitary Soul”

Not every imagined life

feels worthy of being lived.

Sometimes even our brightest dreams

arrive wearing guilt.

They say solitude is sacred —

a quiet room where the soul learns its own name.

And perhaps it is.

For in aloneness,

we meet ourselves without applause.

Be grateful, they whisper —

for breath,

for sky,

for the unseen hands that hold us together.

And I am grateful…

yet still, some nights feel unbearably heavy.

There are moments

when existence feels misplaced,

like a shadow cast where no light stands.

Moments when I wish

not to die —

but simply to dissolve,

to rest from the noise of being.

Sometimes I dream of becoming a void —

not emptiness,

but silence.

Not disappearance,

but peace.

And yet…

the soul remains.

Still breathing.

Still searching.