When sound fades, separated though by a screen,
Each heart beat echoes
Like noise from a blacksmith’s.
Upon less awareness of others,
You go deeper within catacombs of your heart.
To be alone, even when with others,
Like the solitary sunflower in a field,
Turning with the light that shines to within.
The four walls that confine desperate silence,
The soul fills with muffled yells that echo only with you.
Traitor, your heart, lures with sweet peace
But all felt are burrs left by dry pasts
Embedding within, clinging to your life for theirs.
However, in isolation sans distraction et al
Mind burrows deeper, digging for the heart
To understand, or tame, the ‘id’
And detach feelings from feel, emotion from sensation.
Social abandonment sculpts a quiet resolute,
Empowering the thinking-jackhammer that digs for the soul
To heal, hopefully.
The photo is taken from Arnaav Bhavanani’s album: [ˈpraɦa]