To be alone is to gaze upon a flower,
to melt and merge into the preciousness of its rich color and sweet perfume.
To be alone is to stand naked,
your heart so bare and exposed that there is nothing to shield or protect it.
To be alone is to dream,
to live in a universe of your own making, where you play the leading role and all the characters.
To be alone is to faulter,
to trip and fall and make mistakes and be a mess with your whole world standing as witness.
To be alone is to feel the cool earth under your feet so fully
that one dissolves into the other until neither can be said to exist.
To be alone is to feel the wind and the sun and the rain kissing your skin
and to know they are not other than what you are.
To be alone is to die,
to tear your self to pieces so thoroughly that the infinite bursts forth from your exposed breast and consumes you and the world.
To be alone is to become so utterly empty
that the pure potentiality of every possibility comes forth from you as a fresh mountain spring.
To be alone
is to live.
