Solitude is not mere silence—
it embodies the rhythm of your heartbeat
resonating too loudly in an unoccupied chamber.
It is standing on the brink of existence,
where the sea extends endlessly,
yet feeling as though there is no destination.
Figures pass like fleeting shadows,
their merriment seeping through insurmountable barriers.
You gesture, but go unnoticed—
an apparition melded into the daylight.
Solitude does not seek approval;
it arrives unexpectedly,
settling down beside you,
drawing closer than recollection,
breathing steadily in your ear.
Nevertheless—
within the void of its company,
you discover how to embrace yourself.
To serve as your own observer,
your own silent supplication,
your own motivation to persevere,
even when nobody knocks,
even when nobody lingers.
Solitude is burdensome—
yet it has enlightened me
that even a solitary heart
can generate sufficient resonance
to prevent fading away.
Through the Fog 
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