Love is found and lost and found again without a sound.
Muffled within the walls of a heart that's rhythm is as steady as it is haunting.
Strings as hollow as they are long, follow the trail leading to nowhere.
This is not a metaphor for life; rather a truth no one wishes to notice.
Silence is not forgotten within the din of daily racket.
Not forgotten; just ignored.
Whether by plaster and paint, wood and lathe or clouds and stars: What you see only ends.
With your ears you touch infinite silence.
Noise within that fades to nothingness.
Trapped within this, you are found and lost and found again without a sound.
Muffled within the walls of a heart that's rhythm is as steady as it is haunting.
Chills that lurk just outside the answers to your question why.
A mockery to the cluttered chatter of all that could be.
Forever silent, guarded by the figure that stands watch over your awareness, finger suspended on your lips.
Sealed from the outside looking in.
What now metes out silence in this hesitant kiss?
Like first and the last, with goodbye drooping deeply off weary limbs.
Silence takes and gives and then takes again.
Strange things happen in the silence.
I am found and lost and found again without a sound.
Muffled within the walls of a heart that's rhythm is as steady as it is haunting.
A broad space finds stretching room, reaching out to the borders of my horizon.
Silence has no beginning as it does not end.
Neither circle nor square, shapes uneven, forever curving into one another.
I brush against a life, peer within and marvel at the exquisite beauty I can see.
With eyes snapped shut, I dive into the silence given.
This is not a metaphor for life; rather a truth no one wishes to notice.
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