It is raining, and I am alone.

And there is sorrow in these parts, and knowing that life is terrible and beautiful, all at the same time.

I am alive with all of that.

I am alive with the sorrow and all the quiet of all the world.

I shall drink some coffee.

I shall drink it well, and hold my cup with love.



Sometimes I feel lonely.

Sometimes, in those moments of quiet, I wish that someone brave and beautiful would find me, and speak to me, and hold me tighter than that.

Someone brave enough to see all of me, and feed themselves into my world on a platter of authentic beauty.

But this is the kind of beauty a soul finds only in the deep end of life, and so sometimes I feel lonely.

Even when others are around.

Because the world is not yet brave enough to be everything it was made to be, not even on days when I am lonely.

And wishing to the sky for more.



Sometimes, I feel alone.

Even when I’m surrounded by people…

I’m not really.

I’m alone, drifting in a rose coloured world of wonder.

I’m not sad about it— feeling alone, that is.

It’s a beautiful place, this world I live in.

I’m just saying:

The world of a dreamy, wide-open soul is sometimes lonely.


But lonely.

In this world, I sometimes feel like a teeny tiny sailboat trying to float in an ocean of mud and I wonder: ‘Where are the other boats like me?’

Maybe one day I’ll find them.

Maybe one day there’ll be more boats like me.


One day.

photo of people on rowboat during sunset
Photo by Johannes Plenio on