Solitude

Once I thought solitude was emptiness, 
a space the self could not fill.
But now I see it as a sort of equilibrium
between falling and standing upright,  
between what sees and what remembers.

To be alone does not mean to vanish,
but to move at a pace the world no longer sees
or even cares about.

I lie down in the grass and watch the clouds, 
the light bending through me and for a 
moment I understand how even the softest 
geometry can hold its shape in silence.