Solace.

A mind’s quiet place amongst the everyday hustle

of the gritty billboard ridden city,

I pity the ones who lack a fortress of solitude.

Be it ever so humble,

there is nothing like a long morning after a wild night,

listening to jazz and drinking raspberry tea

while admiring the sun and other random objects that shine over me.

It seems as if silence is a treasure

observed only by those who have heard the ambience

of their A to B commute for a bit too long

and strive to prolong the routinely inevitable.

Meditation of a sort, a sect of tranquility; a table for one.

-RSM

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