Me and Solitude

n the quiet corners of the day, a man sits with his solitude — not as a burden, but as a companion. Between silence and memory, he discovers that loneliness, when embraced, can speak with the voice of love.

I locked myself in the house all day.

Not to punish or imprison myself —

but to teach myself that sometimes being alone

can be a kind of companionship, a freedom,

or maybe even an awakening.

The daylight was slowly gathering itself to leave.

It was time.

It isn’t always there —

like us humans, it has its own short, fleeting moment of joy.

Don’t think the light you saw today

is the same one you saw yesterday.

No, not at all.

You see, just like darkness, it lives briefly.

And that’s our tragedy:

their coming and going drag us to the end of the line,

then they wrap us up

as if we were never here.

I watched the shadows crawl along the walls,

stretching and fading like tired travelers.

A soft hum from the street reminded me

that the world keeps moving even when I stop.

Maybe that’s the lesson —

life doesn’t pause for anyone.

Enough of despair.

Let’s go — lean against solitude a while.

Close your eyes. Think of nothing.

Let yourself rest in her arms.

She won’t stay long; she has her own plans.

She’s not at your service entirely.

Why?

Because suddenly, out of nowhere,

a few old memories jump in

and scatter your quiet.

Not that you invite them —

they just arrive, unannounced, uninvited.

Believe me, sometimes this solitude

is the cure for all the chaos inside —

better than any medicine.

I felt my head resting on her lap,

soft, like a pillow.

What a strange calm washed over me.

I froze, afraid to move.

Something was approaching my thoughts, quietly.

I opened my eyes; it slipped past me.

I never liked anyone breaking the bond

between me and my solitude.

To be honest, she’s lonely too.

She has no one but me.

And we shouldn’t be selfish —

don’t you think?

She understands well.

When she sees I’m busy,

she never disturbs me;

in fact, she’s glad —

watching me from a distance, like a guardian angel.

A few days ago, when I was too busy,

I saw her sitting quietly in a corner.

I didn’t pity her —

I felt maybe she, too, needed some time alone.

Some say too much solitude drives you mad.

I don’t believe that.

If you treat solitude kindly, she treats you kindly back.

She doesn’t come to break you —

she comes to teach you.

It may sound foolish,

but solitude is a companion —

like a mother whose lap you return to

when the world grows too heavy.

She soothes you, strokes your hair,

sings a lullaby until your body softens

and your eyes close.

Then — the door suddenly opened.

The sound shattered all my thoughts.

Solitude fled in fear.

I lifted my head —

my dear wife had come home.

I smiled. She smiled. Then she left.

I looked around.

The moment was gone.

The feeling, too.

And solitude — had slipped away.

But I knew she would return.

She always does.

Not out of duty, but love —

a quiet love that doesn’t demand,

doesn’t speak,

just stays near.

And when she comes,

I welcome her with the same respect

I would give an old friend.

For in her silence,

I hear the truth of my own heart —

a whisper between thought and light.

Faramarz Parsa

A whisper between thought and light.