The Echo of One

In this world full of lies

and lives that make the heart want,

I shrink deeper into my own shadow

Not because I enjoy the dark,

but because the light burns too loud.

I'm Solan.

Not silent by nature,

but silent by necessity.

Afraid to make a move.

Because every move becomes

a misunderstanding,

a rejection,

a laugh I’ll never forget.

So I stay still.

Like furniture in people’s lives

seen,

but never truly noticed.

They say I’m quiet—like it’s a flaw.

As if silence isn’t survival,

as if the world ever listened when I spoke.

But what’s the point of endless talk,

when words return like echoes…

from an empty well?

My silence… is my power.

My only shield

in a battlefield of noise.

I dodge wars,

not with swords,

but with solitude.

I’ve avoided countless fights

by letting pain settle inside me

instead of out.

But it hurts.

I’m getting old…

But I’m not wine.

I don’t sweeten with age.

I sour in silence.

I spoil behind smiles.

I scroll through curated lives,

likes and lovers on screens

like ornaments on trees

I’ll never decorate.

Everyone's dancing.

Everyone's posting.

Everyone's being seen.

But me?

I’m poetry tucked in a drawer,

a whisper behind a locked door,

a candle never lit.

Still…

I write.

Not for fame.

Not for claps.

But for one soul

who might understand this ache.

I hide poems in libraries,

on bookshelves in bookstores 

in the margins of forgotten novels.

“If you find this,

know someone breathed this ache before you.

Know you are not alone

in your loneliness.”

–Solan

To those like me

who live between breaths,

who feel too much,

and say too little…

Hear me now.

As I call out to the others like me

hear my cry,

and hold this old fool

before his time depletes

from this wretched abyss.

Because while I am alone,

I am not the only one.

There are Solans everywhere

watching, waiting,

aching,

writing.

We are not broken.

We are not strange.

We are symphonies that play in minor key.

We are stars

brightest when no one's watching.

So if you hear this,

and feel it too

Don’t just scroll.

Don’t just move on.

Answer back.

Write.

Whisper.

Knock.

Because sometimes

the quietest souls

just need

a voice to echo them home 🏡.