Hopping through the shadows, I seek solace,
A lonely squirrel, in nature’s cold ensconce,
Some stories are incomplete but beautiful.
In twilight’s gloom, my dark soul stirs,
No comrades’ chatter, no whispered words,
My life, a lonely, incomplete tale, so beautiful.
Amongst ancient trees, I find my home,
Yet yearn for friends to fill this empty space,
Incomplete, I am, yet the woods are beautiful.
My heart, a canvas of loneliness and art,
In solitude’s depths, I find a fragile heart,
Some stories, they say, are incomplete, yet beautiful.
Through winds murmur and moonlit skies,
I forge my path, where beauty never dies,
In the arms of nature, my tale, incomplete but beautiful.
Author’s Note:
Beauty blooms in life’s incompleteness. The poem, “The Inchoate Elegance,” conveys the essence of lonely souls and nature’s allure, reminding us that even in fragments, beauty thrives.
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