Solitude stands by the window in her silk sheath, slender, self posessed. There are stars in the southern sky dimming and brightening; little glimmers of happiness sending their message of unity and continuity from miles away. They always give her comfort.
It is midnight at the Oasis and her sisters, Joy, Hope, Exuberance and Tranquility, gather under the thinest arc of bright moonlight. They dance around the courtyard fountain made magic in the silver spray.
She feels the stabbing thorn of jealousy, as she always does, when she sees their ease in one another’s company. It is an emotion hidden in her darkest cave of longing, and dangerously close to her heart. If the thorn pierced her there, would she bleed? Would she survive?
Hope looks up and sees Solitude at the window, beckons for her sister to come and join them. It is in her nature; but Solitude will not go, that is in her’s.
Who is she to pretend she is one of them? Maybe the answer is blowing in the wind, but she may never hear it for the wind is constantly galavanting around the earth.
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