Funny how we kill the silence.
Auto horns, tv blears, machinations of machinery’s hum
and thrum, children laughing, crying, jumping through the city
streets rife with music, curses, rumblings of humanity’s need
to fill the air with noise, a minute spent in comemplation
seen as useless waste, the filling up of air and space.
As smoke into a venting fan, the cacophony of man
disappears, and in its wake is
Wind through fertile fields, bird songs, dogs bark, cats cry,
rain upon the grassy knoll, the fall of leaves on pristine grounds
untouched by sapian foot or paw, the ceaseless mewl of man
sucked into nature’s gaping maw, escape of breath held in
at pause between the words, a period, writ in red ink, the ending of the story.
But not the thought. Listen: this is what silence has wrought.