O Solitude

O solitude, you come to me at last,
Your ship, a sturdiness of sail and mast.
Doubts – what are they to me when my heart beats,
Lovingly caressing their endless fleets? –
They are the storm-winds and they are the rain
That flush out my soul into the wide plane,
They are the tremors that now make me smile
Face my own self and laugh for a good while,
They are the roots in strength growing deeper
And the supple branches reaching higher –
And all through their whims my solitude grows
Harmonious melodies, good arrows,
Wings wide stretched like a pigeon in the blue,
On the breeze gliding, her soul ever new.

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