Alone

Photo by Sanket Deorukhkar on Unsplash

Withdrawing to the secret recesses within
I find you present.
There you are, as you ever were, 
awaiting my return --

My solitude.

You greet me with cheer,
though I cannot understand your greeting.
What is so happy about being by oneself?
Are you mad?

Yet the warmth of your fire comforts me,
Beckoning me to sit, be still, 
and just listen
to the crackle of the flame on my heart’s own hearth.

This presence.
My home.

Will you hate me if at morning light
I set out to search again?

Forsaking you for days, weeks, even years on end?

Or will you, as always,
receive me back with open arms
when the journey fails me
and I remember

that there is none with whom to share this space?
Nor could there ever be.
I know it now, though of course I will forget:
in the end, as at the beginning,

I remain utterly, awfully, wonderfully

alone.

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