There is no solitude outside of myself
Every inch of land and space is owned and controlled
Like a colony of spiders whose web betrays any movement
Or breath passing through it
There are brief moments of relief
In nooks and crannies
When light passes through the trees
And I bless the trees and their families of bush and grass
And pray for them to continue prospering
It’s time to let go of stale things
Musty traditions I’ve hung onto
Out of comfort or confusion
Poor substitutes for light or sight
I’ll make a friend of silence and
Let the stillness bridge together what is and what is not
And embrace what rises between the two
As new air, to breathe