There is only silence.

So much, stirring.

Boiling and bubbling.

But there is only silence.

Do you remember those chemistry titration experiments we used to do in school?

On the final drop, two chemicals neutralize each other completely and the entire flask changes colour.

So much, stirring beneath the surface.

But there is only muteness.

And the great, roaring silence

That is louder than the audience’s applause.

Trying to say so much

That it’s all stuck.

Bottle-necked somewhere deep and dark

Where it’s safe

Safe to cry

Safe to sulk

Safe to be silent

Safe from the pain of everyday beauty.

So much stirring.

But there is only silence.

Do the trees need to speak?

But they sing nonetheless.

They sing through their standing tall

Through standing tall, 

in the sunshine and rain, 

snowfall and frost,

hailstorm and flood.

How they sing!

So much stirring.

But there is only silence.

Chasing capricious clouds.

Battling benign breezes.

What castles in the sky, such efforts.

Empty forts built on vacuous bricks,

founded on hollow ground

in a void land.

I walk in them and

I disappear.

So completely and thoroughly

that even I forget my own name.

So much stirring.

But there is only silence.