I love to be in my space,
All by myself,
No soul around except my own.
Sometimes with a book,
It is beautiful and serene,
to stay immersed in the pages,
in the light of the comprehension of the mind
seeking the meaning it ought to reveal.
You may feel sorry for me,
and think I read and write
because I am sad or lonely.
But I would ask you
To kindly know…
I am quite comfortable with myself
in my world of words.
I often prefer to be alone
rather than surrounded by people.
Being alone gives me the liberty.
I can cry… when I want to,
instead of holding it back
and saturating it within.
I can look up at the sky,
and talk to my loved ones,
Who are no longer with me…
to the content of my heart
without anyone mocking me.
I want for hours,
To smile and admire my red rose,
To hold it near and close,
and cherish its presence.
So that I can feel pleasant
when I gaze at a soft interchanging pattern,
of the clouds made in the sky,
and associate it with the smooth transitions
That we can let happen in our lives,
To witness delightfully,
the procession of the sunrise and sunset,
To accept everything works in its dynamic,
that what is in motion today
will come to stand still tomorrow,
To understand that the rays that fall on the ocean waves,
shimmer to inspire us,
to acknowledge and let the impermanence of thoughts,
Be as easy as our flow of breath in and breath out.
To be free and empowered to explore,
to delve deep into my contemplations and emotions,
to talk things through and process my feelings alone,
and try to understand them on my own.
Being in solitude might allow me to do that
without any constraints of time
or interventions from anyone.
I need those moments
To just ‘be’… regroup and gather myself.
So it is okay…
do not feel sorry for me.
Respect my healthy boundaries.
They are just there for the time being.
Smile and know that
I will be back for my valued social engagements.
I am simply rebuilding myself
from the hurt of my scattered pieces
but when I get done
I will rise again
and become a better version of myself.