I'll open up my music,
ready to be swallowed by it -

the sorrow, the pain,
the grandiose complexity,
the glories of love -

but before I hit play
I wander,
absorbed in the silence -

the slow rolling tide
that it becomes
when it cradles me,

There is so much beauty
in what is never said
or performed.

Sometimes silence
is the only music
my soul can hear.

The End

11 comments about this poem Feed