As a flock of sheep graze,
One of them alienates itself.
And grazes a distance from others.
As if in search of self-identity
What a beauty it is!
To watch it graze gracefully.
Completely oblivious of its surroundings,
But grace and peace epitomized
It’s bleating oozing satisfaction,
For it’s a being momentarily in perfection.
A sight exhibiting tranquility,
If not a form of spirituality.
With its occasional raising of head and bleating,
One is left in utter mesmeration.
Might it be talking with the winds?
Might it be talking with the trees?
Tranquility epitomized in solitude,
Is the best way to put it.
A body in peaceful solitude,
Glows and radiates abject tranquility
Solitude is a fresh spring,
That waters solitary vines.
Solitary souls nourish and flourish,
From its rich inspiration and fascination.
by phiny
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