What am I looking for? A starting place. To borrow a feeling, to find in myself a mirror or the deep longing. But in myself there is a cool resting, no longing, no sadness, fear, connection, Nothing. The memories fade. The words I use simplify or confuse themselves, twisting. I am at the start of new loss. The loss of worry, of obsession, of pain, the loss of memory, of language.
I am a body, quiet, spotted, untouched, without desire. This contentedness-- a bird is singing, a dog asleep, cat in hiding, books climb the walls. I am at home in this place and in myself. Solitude is tranquility, peace in my thoughts. Not lonely. No. How strange. Never lonely. Life seeps from my body like rain from a wet coat. A meditative state. My mind is still.