Sitting along a quiet brook, silent sounds fill my soul
Or watching windswept waters, waves spray and warm my heart.
Deeply in a forest's grasp, cool dampness ever drips.
Quietly paddling waters at sunset, while fickle fish ignore.
Give me a desk in a dark, warm cabin. Room. Library. Cafe.
Pen to paper, soft sounds to ears as the ideas born to the world.
Many blossom amid the noise.
As I live an internal life, through a contemplative lens.
Some speak and boast and revel and dream.
But yet I simply watch, content in the mind's explorations.
I never fit who I thought the world said I should be,
until I accepted an internal existence in reflection of its ways.
A solitary place, one that fills my soul, worships my foundation,
admires the world, and enables me to love shall find me be.