She believes she is an island in solitude.
Uninhabited, mysterious and of mystic beauty.
The weary sailors set foot in her as they transit;
They sing praises of her abundance,
and drink from the brook flowing through her heart.
She sometimes think of poisoning her brook with the toxic roots growing deep in her.
This has always remained as a seed of thought in her mind,
never meant to get materialized!
Maybe she likes their transient presence subconsciously.
maybe in their chaos she finds a different calm;
Maybe their voices, their laughter softens her solitude;
Maybe her solitude was never for real, all she had was loneliness.
Maybe one day she will care to ask her belief “Am I an island in solitude?”