Solitude

How old is solitude?as each minute I breathe
its very essence,its texture so familiar,like the
rise and fall of the sun like the quarter phasing
of the moon.Its light and shadows moored into
memories entrenched with unspeakable pains,from
a world that has been an abyss.This feeling
echoes through this Valley which may have known
a thousand sorrows between births and deaths
Now I speak to the voice within as ageless as solitude...in the shadows the moon casts,
Quietly a woman sleeps. Holding only her dreams,
as upon her pillow she weeps.Tears slide down her face. She cries for something.Alone she lays,in
silent suffering. She drifts off to sleep in solitude.