Loneliness is not an abyss. It is eloquent. It is the fountain of infinite possibilities. The cradle of creativity. This was realized by the Upanishadic seers, the Buddha, and mystics like Rumi. The poet's journey is across this loneliness, embedded in the recesses of his heart, which, like the desolate rocks Lining the hills and mountains, and going into the construction of ancient monuments, narrates a story of its own.
Waiting for A Norwester
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