This is a poem I wrote for this drawing
Titled : Solitude
In the quiet hours
when the chaos of the world grows loud,
I sit with myself.
No voices calling,
no footsteps rushing past.
Just the soft breath of the room
and the slow turning of thought.
At first the silence feels strange,
like an empty chair at a table.
But if you stay long enough,
it begins to speak.
The mind settles.
Not all at once.
Little by little,
like leaves falling back to the ground.
Old worries loosen their grip.
Questions starts crippling.
And somewhere beneath it all
a calm voice rises.
Not in the crowd.
Not in the praise of others.
But in this small, quiet space
where you finally meet yourself.
Solitude is not loneliness.
It is a gentle return.
A place where the mind rests
and the heart learns to believe again.
materials
Charcoal and crayon on paper
8 X 11 inches
progress
Below are my process shots
