Isolation is the loudness of silence,
The humming of an ever present mental clock
Ticking, counting, analyzing.
The loneliness that can be found even surrounded by a crowd,
Or the desperation for human connection
That goes beyond the unnatural glow of the screen,
Pixels reaching towards your eyes as they scream.
It's the way you calm yourself,
That everything will be alright.
Reaching for comfort in food, love, drugs, or work.
Moving forward, pushing on.
Brave faces matched by tired eyes and weary smiles.
Praying to be seen.
For compassion and empathy. For peace.
From the terrors of the world that chill us,
Keep us in our place
Or fighting tooth and nail for change.
Beating at the door before it's slammed in your face.
It's the sickness of your mind,
Going crazy, spinning in circles, bubbling with doubt.
Fearful of the silence, and desperate to get out.
Isolation is loss.
Not always of others - but sometimes ourselves.
It's cold, brutish, and inescapable.
You feel it in your bones, see it in the mirror.
It haunts you - taunts you - to keep going.
But isolation can be power.
To fall, to mourn, to reexamine, to be reborn.
To burn to the wick of your very existence
And resurrect from melted wax, oozing with potential -
Reshaped for a second dawn.