The doctor named it plainly—loneliness—
a quiet epidemic gnawing at the soul
of our shared humanity.
A silent cell, caging the wild, natural impulse to belong.
A spell woven by screens and market schemes,
leaving us perpetually connected,
yet cut off.
But what if loneliness is not the enemy,
but an invitation—
to return to the house of aloneness
we have long fled
in fear?
What if the ache is a teacher of wisdom,
the silence of exile—music of return?
And loneliness, gently held,
the very hand reaching out—
for genuine togetherness?
For the tears that speak, “I am lonely,”
whisper too, “I belong.”
Something in you remembers—
not the noise of false belonging,
but the homecoming long abandoned.
So, learn to rest
in the house of your own heart,
windows open—
free from need,
wed to desire.
And experience the great reversal,
when your loneliness,
honored at last,
gives rise to new life—
not the end of longing,
but its flowering.
