Philosophical Poetry

The Soul's Canvas

solitude

  • Where No Key Fits

    Where No Key Fits

    The quiet hum of solitude,
    an enormity where my unsaid thoughts
    find no echo.
    Freedom here, independent
    from the knowing glance.

    There is also a peculiar refuge in
    being gently misinterpreted,
    a shield from the sharper outline
    of flawless understanding.

    I realize that, upon seeing me,
    upon mapping those winding roads
    of my heart,
    do they indeed not hold a key?
    Do they not lay claim to those wild,
    unbroken spaces
    that I keep even from myself?

    To be known is a gilded cage,
    Where bars of love,
    glinting bright,
    still keep an aching heart.

    So I walk at these edges,
    hugging the immense loneliness
    and the soft oblivion
    of not being quite seen.
    My soul breathes here,
    not bothered,
    free to live.

  • The Unheard Resonance

    The Unheard Resonance

    The messenger walks alone,
    a solitary silhouette
    against the uproar.

    Truth-
    a stripping away,
    a release
    from grasping hands.

    Life-
    a spiral of paradoxes,
    wealthy threads unseen,
    humming on notations
    withheld from others.

    Relationships stretch,
    tense and far,
    across ground of varying mind.

    Wisdom spoken
    in a forgotten language,
    falling on ears
    that cannot decipher its old script.

    Misunderstood-
    a loud echo,
    how can they perceive
    the revealed gem
    when they hold only
    familiar stones?

    The great ones, too,
    traveled this path
    a lonely expanse
    before the dawn
    of understanding.

    Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.

  • Brimming Cup, Open Heart

    Brimming Cup, Open Heart

    The soft rustling of aloneness,
    not an empty echo,
    but a breathed in air.

    Space to untangle,
    threads of self,
    spun and known.

    No clutching hand required
    to feel the pulse of the world,
    the wind a soft touch,
    the stars a silent knowing.

    This self, rooted and whole,
    offers not an empty vessel,
    but a filled cup.

    Love then, 
    is a giving not a clinging, 
    two solid shores 
    meeting courteously, 
    the open sea between, 
    respected, understood, 
    a bond freely chosen 
    rather than desperately sought. 

    For in that solitude,
    the heart discovers its own song
    To truly sing in harmony .

    Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.

  • Some and Some

    Some and Some

    Some ignore it all,
    Some count wounds,
    And some count lessons.

    Some seek beauty in the mundane,
    Some find solace in solitude,
    And some revel in the chaos.

    Some dance with joy in the rain,
    Some embrace the stillness of night,
    And some chase the dawn’s first light.

    Some build bridges from broken pieces,
    Some heal others with their own scars,
    And some shine as beacons through the dark.

    Some act with kindness,
    Some whisper wisdom,
    And some create words.

    Some plant seeds in barren soil,
    Some nurture dreams against all odds,
    And some inspire hope in weary hearts.

    Some find strength in vulnerability,
    Some forge unity from diversity,
    And some spark change with a single act.

    Some paint stories on blank canvases,
    Some compose melodies from silence,
    And some sculpt beauty from rough stone.

    Some embrace the unknown with courage,
    Some question to seek deeper truths,
    And some re-imagine the world anew.

    Each path is unique, yet none supreme,
    All threads in life’s lotus flower,
    A symphony of human experience.

    Some lead, some follow, some walk alone,
    Yet all move onward in their time,
    Each step is valid, each journey whole.

    In laughter, tears, or silent thought,
    We navigate our inner worlds,
    No way lesser, no way greater.

    Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.