Solitude alluding. (Writing or rambling, thinking or scrambling) You choose.

Nocturnal loneliness holds a certain comfort.

An alternative to the anguish.

Replacing loneliness in the delivery of solitude.

Solitude has a lingering beauty does it not?

An element of choosing.

As melancholy presents a romance to rival the ugliness of depression, solitude too delivers a reverent, dignified restructuring to loneliness.

Perhaps it is in the knowledge that the world around you sleeps. As they slumber it is others who are not partaking consciously in life.

Solitude a result of being the one who is engaged.

The sky.

Endlessly dark, deep and full of possibilities.
A wrapped and blanketing embrace. Infinite companionship and predictable upon it's voyage each night travelling it's muted path.

The sounds.

Scarce, rhythmic tunes, the hum of the night. Secrets whispered from a friend that is only yours and always waiting. Always listening and always true.

Solitude holds blessings that daylight will never understand. An understated transient shift from the sharpness of the day.

Sleep.

Sleep becomes the enemy. The gateway from solitude and back t'wards loneliness.
Sleep uninviting. Lulls the senses t'wards rest and the inevitable rising of the irreverent sun.

Daylight.

Blinding in it's delivery of possibilities. Possibilities belonging to those who no nothing of nocte whisperings of unseen companions. Imaginary friendships.
Ships that sail on the morning tide.

The sun is high in the sky now, I am tired, so very tired, I must sleep.