Solitude

Finding rhythm, finding strength: how solitude can lead to moments of introspection and unity with one's surroundings

Feb 22, 2025

Running Symphony

THE ROAD ALONG the western coast unfurls like a ribbon, the asphalt glistening under the kiss of ocean spray. Each step he takes is an invitation to the vast unknown, where the gentle whispers of the Pacific mingle with the wind’s playful laughter. In this solitude, his body finds its rhythm—legs moving with intention, arms slicing through the cool air, creating movement that resonates with the crashing waves, each pulse echoing the heartbeat of the sea.

The horizon lies ahead, a sprawling canvas of blues where sky and ocean intertwine in an endless embrace. The scents of saltwater blend with the crisp breeze, and his footfalls strike a melody upon the earth, a song of liberation. Time seems to suspend here, his heart thundering like a drum in the warmth of the sun, each moment rich with possibility. As he moves, he sheds the burdens of the world, becoming a dancer in harmony with the elements, discovering his essence within the vastness.

Night Light

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

She stood on the hill alone,    
the night draped heavy,    
a cloak of silence,    
enfolding her in its dark embrace.     

No moon to guide her steps,    
only the wind’s breath,    
whispering earth’s secrets;  
and the faint glow of distant farmhouses,    
like scattered fireflies trapped in amber,    
flecks against the vastness,    
remnants of warmth in the cold.      

She gazed into the valley,    
where shadows danced among the fields,    
and echoes of crickets    
sang their lullabies to the night.     

Her heart beat in rhythm    
with the pulse of the universe,    
a quiet longing that swelled,    
each breath a tether to the stars.      

In the stillness of the night,    
she felt the world breathe,  
a slow and steady rhythm,    
the rise and fall of dreams.     

The hill beneath her feet—    
a steadfast guardian of secrets—   
held stories of countless souls,    
whispered in the rustle of leaves,    
echoing through the fabric of time.      

Each star above, a distant memory,    
a wish cast long ago,    
reminding her that even in darkness,    
hope can shine,    
fragile yet persistent,    
the flicker of a candle    
in a forgotten room.      

She closed her eyes,    
embracing the cool kiss of night air,    
allowing her thoughts to drift,    
clouds across a moonless sky,    
searching for connection. 

In the vastness of quietude,
she found strength;
the weight of darkness,    
companion rather than foe, 
finding solace in the knowledge    
that she was never truly alone.

Author’s Note

James Ron
inspired the first piece, a prose poem, with his series, Badwater - My Worst and Best Race.
My award-winning book of poetry and prose, The Edges, is available in digital and paperback formats at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, Google Play, IngramSpark, and Kobo.

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