Writers 
There was a time I feared the quiet,
And thought that empty rooms were cold;
I searched for voices in the distance,
For hands to hold, for stories told.
I thought that being surrounded
Was proof that I was not alone,
Until I learned that crowded places
Can still leave a heart alone.
Now I have grown to love the silence,
The gentle stillness of the night;
The kind that asks for no performance,
The kind that needs no need to fight.
Not every silence speaks of sorrow,
Nor does all distance mean goodbye;
Some silence comes to heal the spirit,
Some distance teaches hearts to fly.
There comes a time when constant company
No longer feels like what you need;
You start to cherish quiet moments
And let your restless spirit breathe.
You learn to value what is simple,
What asks for nothing in return,
What never makes you prove your worth
Or beg for love you should have earned.
A river never begs the forest
To follow where its waters go;
It finds its way around the stones
And lets the current guide its flow.
It does not fear the empty shore,
Nor call its journey lonely;
It simply moves, because it knows
It does not need the crowd to be.
For solitude can be a doorway
That gently leads you back within;
A place to meet yourself again
And make peace with where you've been.
It is not weakness to retreat,
Nor shameful to walk alone;
Sometimes you leave the noise behind
To hear your own heart's tone.
So I will not apologise for quiet,
Nor feel ashamed to walk alone.
The peace I found was hard-earned treasure,
And I have learned to call it home.
No noise, no mask, no expectation,
Just room enough to breathe and be.
For sometimes choosing your own quiet
Is the wisest choice you make.