Does absence make the heart grow fonder?
It’s difficult to say..
But certainly it gives a poet space
to dream and ponder, night and day.

A hermit’s solitude.. is his gentle reprieve.
It allows his mind to flow more freely,
Lets it breathe..
By unconstraining him from
hard and cold and dull and boring facts.
Truth is.. a poet’s beauty is an act.
A truthful living in a world of his own making.
There is a fact-a-bending to it..
There is a liberty-a-taking..

There is a reason hermits do their writing in seclusion.
What is a poem, after all..
If not a sweet and flowery delusion?