Silence is poetry written by air on the mind –
Breathing sense to the soul;
To accord oranges in an oculus,
And grant vision to the blind.
Eternal rumblings of the soothsayer –
Saying you should capture the seconds;
The seconds capture you,
And dissatisfaction keeps getting strayer.
Age is the truth written by time on the skin –
Making love to the seconds;
To impart reason to futility,
And cast humility to the grin.
Nocturnal musings of the naysayer –
Asking what’s the meaning of it all?
The meaning lies in silence,
And satisfaction gets a little less grayer.