On Solitude

Cutting this world off from my physical and mental presence; listening to an internal calling to be alone. Bask in that quiet, free to let my mind play upon a continuum, delaying vicarious jolting. Striving for some semblance of balance; like being bathed in a hot body of water. The rippled reflection cast will soon become apparent. I see who it is lurking in the murky depths, gasping for breaths; this elusive being from within. Hours, maybe days pass by, absorbed in nothingness. My telephone rings, “Hello dear friend, where did you go? Where have you been?” Oh dear friend, I can hardly begin. I have seen the darkness of my very own shadow, faceless and nameless, is how my journey begins. Trekking over hills and down into valleys, stumbling over stones, searching for absolute reality. “Were you lonely on your trip?” my dear friend then asked. Is the richness of life ever imposed? Solitude is something that must be chose.

Reviews

[.n.]

Prose poetry, nice. This has some really great lines within and you've chosen some fantastic, poetic words, I think. The only thing that throws me is the use of the word 'chose' instead of chosen at the end of that last line. Like the conversation...nice touch.