Standing there,
Staring at the vast mountain,
I perceived the essence of solitude,
The sense of being far away alone.
The pale blue sky turned scarlet,
Temperature changed from warm to cold,
Purple Darkness dominated Daylight,
But still i stood there,
Me and my shadow,
All alone,
Much too alone,
Never tiring of staring at the horizon,
Watching the sun go down leisurely,
Tasting the warm glow of solitude,
Rising and tossing within me,
Threatening to outpour its brim
One fine day...
Little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth.
For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures,
and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.
- Francis Bacon
