The world of silence has no edges,
no form or shape.
It is the sound of clouds colliding,
susurration of a sipping surf,
imagined murmuring of mist and fog,
music without voice or instruments,
the spoken word unheard,
lightning without thunder,
stifled yawn suspended,
muted clocks ignoring time,
ships of mist asail in fogbanks.
It is birds made of air,
Mobius loop of memory,
wall-less padded cells,
language without vowels or consonants,
messages corked into bottles,
wordless comic strip balloons unmoored,
flat earth with halo for horizon,
homogeneity of soundlessness,
sailing on a stormless, solitary sea,
one hand clapping,
separation from engagement,
disappearance at the vanishing point,
abstinence from aural orgy,
teakettle boiling on a soundless stove,
falling trees in noiseless forest,
words stranded on a foreign beach,
dissolving into anonymity,
disengagement without comprehension,
leaving with no expectation of arriving ,
parade of padded feet to muffled drumbeat,
the realm of deafness.
600 ®Copyright 2012 Jack Scott. All rights reserved.