FROM UP HERE
The last man on the other side of life, quiet....
From up here: There is a distinct kind of quiet that lives at the edge of the world—where the rhythm of the clouds, the wind, and the tide dictates the hours.
In this piece, I wanted to explore the contrast between a life lived high above the rush of things and the warmth of the busy world down below. It’s about solitude, routine, and finding a quiet sort of kinship with the people moving through the lights far off in the distance.
“Walking back up the hill at sunset,
I light a fire outside my hut,
I roast the fish,
watch the treetops,
see every busy street,
every busy house—
especially those glowing with firelight.”
A Note for the Journey
How often do you find yourself stepping back just to watch the world spin from a distance? Does solitude feel like an escape, or do you find yourself drawn back to the glow of the crowd?
Drop a comment below and let me know what this brings to mind for you.
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What stayed with me is the way the poem quietly changes perspective. It begins with someone looking down from a place of solitude, but it never feels isolated. The mountains, the sea, the birds, the river, and finally the distant lights of other homes all become part of the same sense of belonging. I especially loved the ending. Instead of turning away from the busy world below, the speaker watches it with affection, as though peace doesn't require escaping other lives—it simply offers another way of seeing them. Thank you for sharing this gentle and beautifully observed poem.