Solitude lies within the silence of this ever turning mind,
and the deferment from society.
When the eyes of judgment cast their bitter gaze,
her lips beckon with the promise of sweet nectar.
When the hounds of failure bare their rotting teeth,
she carries me to serenity, to the peaceful embrace of isolation.

How their minds destroy mine, how their words destroy mine.
Mans ears were not meant for the power of language, and mans tounge holds not the strength to weild such power.
Only she has the will to bear the scars of mispoken words, to withstand the confinement created by them.

Once tounges have been loosed, their eyes have judged, and the hounds have taken hold,
she will take your hand and walk with you.
Never to be seen, felt, or heard but always present.
To barren wastes she will take you, were you will pray to stay.
Forever bound to the unseen beauty of seclusion.
Forever bound to the sanctuary of silence.