With the sanctum sanctorum within

I looked for gods in temples

The gravity that makes me grounded

The compass that points to the self in a sea of people

The solace from commonplace

The mirror before which I comb my self respect

The realm my parallel thoughts refract

The necessary taciturn every relation needs

The chisel that sculpts my individuality

The corner I ensconce to introspect

The chamber that embalms my soul

My gratuitous twenty fifth hour

The sky that belittles my ego

To another novice, loneliness

To me, Solitude


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