So, I write.

Buyukada-Nizam Mahallesi, Prince Islands, Turkey

I’m a lonely writer
Sometimes, I stay in on a Saturday night,
While some are out, exploring endless possibilities of a wondrous life

But I stay back, and I ponder,
Take a quiet moment from the week, when most are too busy to notice me missing
And I wonder.
 
I wonder about life,
And all the little pieces that are somehow connected together
Trying endlessly, to place the different shapes in a cohesive mold of structure
 
Making sense,
Of everything that seems to make none at all.
So I write,

Sometimes with little to say,
And others with desperation for answer and understanding
And every word is therapy

A collision of heart-beat and wander-lust
Every passing thought provoking an intrinsic current of illumination 
And as I write,

The natural sense of identity surfaces through the canvas of expression
And suddenly peace and refreshment overwhelms 

And the lonely writer,
Who has solved another puzzle,
Can go out and explore the endless possibilities of a continually wondrous life.