Cogitation of a Solitary Soul

Solitude! Ah, that wonderful feeling, which has always been my companion,
Been with me through weather and storm, never displaying fair-weatheredness like people or possession.
Books, require money, to buy and people, require money, to keep,
But true solitude shall never pretend oblivion, whatever the circumstance might be.
It is said that no man is an island, but how many people can I take?
For every time I trust a person, another mistake do I make.
People, are ambitious, worldly, and vain sometimes too,
Little do they realize that something as simple as butterflies hold happiness true.

Humans are accustomed to think of the future ahead,
Forgetting the Now, The Present, whose importance has been relayed from the godhead.
Humour hath been drained out from today’s youth too,
Dreary monotony and not knowing which path to take is all that they are left with.
If love comes into their lives, then that is taken too,
Torn and ripped apart until the soul’s heart-rending cries can be heard.
An age of paradox this surely is,
When one is discoursed about Free Will and the like,
But always reminded, rather sternly warned, about the consequences of an action one might take.
Adults, thinking that they have the world figured out,
Ever concerned, put the fire of their children out.

And gloat then on, believing they have done a greater good for all of mankind,
Providing the world a lawyer, scientist, philosopher who might have otherwise gone astray.
Instead, they have becoming stumbling blocks for a life
That might have added delight in its own way.
But no! Even in this day, it is dishonourable to be an artist or a playwright,
‘Cause the pay is never right;
It’s either too less, or too demeaning to say that your child
Has below average holdings.
“Beta”, the mother says, when the child looks in disbelief,
After having been promised all this while that she would always stand by her,
No matter what,
Only to be met with the dreaded message disguised in a kind tone and a soft note.
She then gives up, knowing no other option,
And with this decision, her Free Will and all her dreams meet with evaporation.

Her friends, when they hear the news, are quick in consolation,
But soon, even they have to get on with their lives,
And alone has she to cope with her desolation.
Stripped of her joy, her desire,
All because she had none of the fighting spirit left inside her.
She succumbed to the vagaries of life,
Entitling herself to nothing but a little hope here and there.
Disillusioned with the way the world has treated her,
She finds solace in the solitude which in the beginning itself readily accepted her.
How, she wonders, did I push all this away?
Putting myself in the company of the people to whose tunes I was made to sway.
As the days passed by, more and more insight did solitude give her,
That she realized that it was time to reclaim the life that had always been hers.

Alas!, her mind said, the time is too late,
Your youth has passed and closed is the Gate.
But her soul whispered, There is still enough time, you can make it,
All you need is the belief in yourself that when life passes you a bleak prospect, you can take it.
Solitude had taught her to look at Her Truth in the truest fashion,
That she just listened to her heart and followed it with all passion.
Where she reached finally is now not the question,
But how she reached there is all that must come under our comprehension.

It was Solitude, one of the greatest teachers out there,
Who enabled this little anomaly in the eyes of non-believers,
And facilitated this miracle in the eyes of those who believe.
It is all a matter of perception, I should say.
Solitude let her see and also lets me see what I really am,
As when we are amongst people, all we experience is bedlam.
Caught in the melee, little do we know what to do,
Mostly we go with the flow, not recognizing, we lose our selves true.
In Solitude, we have nothing but ourselves,
Our thoughts, our emotions which are a compendium of our personal Legend.
There is always a part of that girl in all of us,
We have braved and faced the same difficulties,
Succumbed to the same injuries.
We protest to God, informing Her of the injustices meted out to us,
At the same time not taking cognizance of the extent to which we have allowed others to influence us.

If only we turn to Solitude once in a while,
Take time off for the poor little governess who lies in wait,
Remember, neither is she strict nor is she judgmental,
All too caring, nice and gentle.
She is all you want her to be,
A listener, custodian, nurturer and mentor,
So why don’t you visit, and for yourself see her?