In the quiet of isolation’s keep,
A silence vast, a silence deep,
Where echoes fade, and voices cease,
There dwells a strange, unsettling peace.

Walls close in, the world feels small,
No footsteps down the empty hall,
The weight of stillness, heavy and near,
Bears down like fog, dense and clear.

Days blend together, nights feel long,
The hours hum a hollow song.
Shadows shift in softened light,
Stretching thin in the fading night.

Thoughts drift in, unguarded, bare,
Filling spaces once held by care.
They rise like ghosts, linger slow,
Unveiling truths we rarely show.

Yet in this solitude, seeds can grow,
Roots take hold in the soil below.
Though barren ground may feel so stark,
Even in darkness, there can be a spark.

Isolation’s touch, so sharp and cold,
Yet sometimes, it’s where we unfold—
Where minds can mend, and hearts recalibrate,
In solitude’s hand, we wait.