Many people had talked about solitude and how one can train his mind by being with oneself. They say - it is a gift. When I was 23 years old, I wrote a poem about this and I think it is better if I share it (without any modifications) here.
It is the essence of serenity;
Where the stone ain’t need to be polished
for the feigned beauty;
When the tree doesn’t need to proclaim
it’s aboriginal right;
And the wind comes in and swirls around
without expecting for a barricade;
The loneliness spirited with enlightenment
And the tranquility stands the truth.