What Is The Sound Of Silence?

Could it be the sound of a leaf falling gingerly to the ground, or that of one’s heartache reaching out in muted screams of pain and longing?

Could it be the sound of a rosebud breaking gently into full bloom, or that of one’s thoughts floating aimlessly in the vast emptiness of time and space?

Silence speaks, ever so eloquently, but no one stops to listen.

No one hears the sound of a portrait staring back at eyes that don’t see, or that of a single teardrop threatening to unleash a torrent of despair.

No one hears the sound of a rainbow changing hues across a listless sky, or that of deep slumber heaving dreams in rhythmic sighs.

What of the song that needed to be sung, the letter that craved to be written, the prayer that yearned to be said, the promise that hankered to be fulfilled?

The language of silence is the language of serenity. Serenity that resides in the heart and mind, as well as in the senses; that comes from embracing love, attaining wisdom, knowing contentment.

“Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence…”

The Phantom Of Her Haunted Dreams

She stares blankly ahead, her chin resting on a folded hand. Her thoughts swim to all directions, but really just to nowhere. She looks but doesn't see, listens but doesn't hear, touches but doesn't feel, moves but doesn't understand. Smile? She tries, but...

She lays in the dark alone, sleep takes long in coming. Her thoughts swim again and tears well in her eyes. When will it stop, this madness? Even as she prays hard to break free of the shadows that follow her, deep in her heart she craves for that one moment long ago and far away, now lying steadfast in her dreams, just a fading memory.

Only he can make her smile again. Just the thought of him, or the sound of his voice, can make her feel good again.

For a while.


Phantom Dreams

What's on his mind? I fear
The silent scream of a restless tear
I cannot hide. The pain of knowing
Reality when ends the dreaming.

Frazzled thoughts swim to nowhere
Listening to sounds I couldn't hear
With my eyes closed. Like rain in May
The word goodbye it's hard to say.

What's on his mind? I wonder
Whether 'tis nobler to surrender
And let it die. It's such sweet sorrow
Good things don't last until the morrow.

Like An Unforgotten Lover

It is said that home is where the heart is. The peripatetic soul seeks pasture in the far corners of the earth, takes root and bears fruit in some strange places, wanders off to more unknown spaces, struggles to fulfill a destiny, and yet still hankers for that one warm spot where dreams used to be sweet and memories decidedly tender. Home is where the heart is, indeed, and it beckons every time the spirit falls prey to earthy frills, when the flesh succumbs to bodily ills, and the mind grows weary from merely just surviving.

Smell the flowers... walk on grass... hear the birds sing... gaze at the moon... laugh in the rain... be a child again. The promise of home is at once inviting, at best hopeful; sometimes stirring, oftentimes uplifting; but always wistful and almost ethereal, in essence a comforting refuge from the cold, biting winds of change.

Phantom Dreams 2

If my heart had wings
it would have flown with the wind
and lingered where your thoughts are.

If my thoughts could touch
a part of you,
I would feel the sadness
in your eyes
and reach out to the deep end
of your soul.

If my soul had a heart
it would have soared from the depths
and found its home where you are.

incubus 3

leo nights
are here again
killing me
with the violent winds
of burnt passion
and steeled emotion.

i fear
the rustling of grass
under my feet
the touch of rain
upon my face
the gentle stroke
of lustful fingers
against my skin.

would i surrender
my virgin heart
chastened by pasts
long lost among the shadows
of time?
should i stop trying
to save the sunlight
knowing there's no tomorrow
in the uncertain mists
of now?

being least and last
is such a terrible feeling.

the rainbow is pale
amid a hysterical sun
as i watch in quiet abandon
the changing of hues
for the answer
that wouldn't come.