Tony DeLorger © 2016
Silence fills my mind,
a soundless cacophony, like a distant beehive,
in waves of busy resolve,
and we call this nothing, a quiet moment,
when all I can think
is what has silence done to transcend itself.
Here in my silence, mine alone,
life is pumping hard,
and I may be still, but nothing else is,
as this surging distant knell,
alerts this mind to movement, profound,
and me an epicenter of calm.
Perhaps is it I, in resounding din,
and all else is silent, everything,
or am I the delusions of an afferent mind,
awareness the resolution of my madness,
or perhaps is it tinnitus, a defect of hearing,
and I’ll find silence not; a shame.
But how loud is this world,
when escape is no option, chosen or rewarded,
and sleep just a relief in kind,
to manage the sounds of life happening;
so in my quiet places, where sound still resonates,
I can at least rest knowing, I’m alive.