The silence in this house resounds.
ricocheting off walls.
It comes back to me,
Piercing to my core.
I discover only then,
the source of the lonliness,
Is silence.
That and nothing more.
And so I want to scream.
[Or rather, I want someone else to scream]
and let me know they are there.
but nothing is heard.
But the deep thudding of my heart,
And my paces on the floor.
A marching bands melody,
Wilted. Like roses,
Ghostlike.
Like the purgatory of sleep.
How much more must I endure?
Only of Silence and Stillness I am sure.
How I wish it were a dream!
and I were fast asleep,
in lands we cannot see,
[cannot feel]
without deep belief.
Sleep
Such a tumoltous event.
The tedious practice of falling asleep.
And the uncertainty of sleep itself.
Nightmares are dreams.
And they favor to haunt,
Awaking to whimpering,
and finding only me.
The nagging sensation,
How many hours of life have disapeared?
Yet, I sleep.
to make the silence disappear,
The silence that creates,
forming with it's own two hands,
An art, one could say,
A sculpture of lonliness.
Made from marble,
Cold and hard |
Submission Name: Silence and Sleep
