In this room, the world withdraws,

its restless voices fading into walls.

The clock ticks softly, steady in its beat,

a metronome to mark the weight of thought.

Here, shadows stretch but do not threaten me;

their shapes are gentle, cast by fleeting light.

The air is still, unbroken by demands,

and time unwinds into a thread of calm.

This space is neither prison nor escape,

but something deeper—shelter for the self.

No battles fought, no victories to claim,

just silence, offering a place to breathe.

Outside, the world continues in its spin,

with all its noise, its haste, its endless pull.

But here, I stand apart, a moment’s pause,

not lost, but waiting, finding what is whole.

The walls are plain, the corners unadorned,

and yet they hold a truth that I can trust.

For in this room, the clutter falls away,

and I am left with only what I am.