on solitude

When I have spent enough time alone in contemplation the whole world seems possible again. Birthplace of childish wonder. A beginners mind. It is in this state of rest that the essence of my soul calls to the multitudeous outside and accepts it as home inside. Seeking to know each better in the reflection of the other. To be present with oneself is to be present with the world as it unfolds. As a page feels fullest before it is blotched — inviting possibility in a blank stare.

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