The Silence

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Enveloped by darkness

Friend and foe

Wrapped in its embrace

So cold

So welcome

So feared


From the inner twilight

Of night's dance with my mind

A dream unfolds

Of words spoken

Of words unheard

Of words stolen


In the darkness lies

The Multitude

In darkness lies

Truth

In darkness lies

Lies


In darkness lies

A cacophony of hopes

Of wonders

Of histories and futures and

Endings


In darkness

Bursting with sound

Lies

Silence

What do you hear in the silence? If you're laying in darkness, and it's pitch black, what do you hear? Does your mind create rustlings or creaks or whispers?

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What do you hear in the silence? If you're laying in darkness, and it's pitch black, what do you hear? Does your mind create rustlings or creaks or whispers?

And, if your darkness was metaphorical, would your own call be answered? Or, in a world where everyone is crying out, is no one actually listening?

This poem was prompted by the excellent PoetsPub March Pub Chatter and is based on the excellent Simon and Garfunkel song The Sound of Silence (The Disturbed's version, which is linked at the top of this chapter, is amazing). Check it out!

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