Silence
Referred to as a strange dialect,
With its end being sheer utterance,
While quietness adorns its beginning,
Ripping apart from the chaos and fractals.
An unscripted language read with
heart,
While seldom judged as a mark of wisdom,
Where it prevails over the clamour of notions,
And proves anger and absolute
aversion.
Often attributed to the confessions of boredom,
Talking out louder than the blabbers of
the time machine,
Tearing apart the vicious, yet
possessed thoughts,
Owned it though after a series of cacophonous
shrieks and protests.
Silence, Yes it’s my fiery evaporation of boiling thoughts in eternal action.
Congratulations 👏
ReplyDeleteIn silence, I admire your poem.
ReplyDelete