There is solitude only in the moment, not on mountain tops
Barren deserts, deserted beaches or lonesome forests
Crowds of thought quickly swarm those places, even if there is
No one around, like the sky they are always there, the whispering
Cannot be turned off, unless one learns, to listen, amidst the busy crowd
For elusive silence, everyone is gifted solitude, daily in the depths of sleep
If one can escape the charm of dreams, which provide a contrast
To the happenings of the day, even those crowds must be parted
It can only happen, there is solitude everywhere, just as there are crowds
Those moments of solitude must be prised open, not through effort
But by effortless patience, the crowds will thin and die out
Leaving solitude in its wake, which was always there
