There is no quiet

Not absolutely

It’s just that some places are less noisy than others

You can escape the traffic noise of urban life

Unplug your playlists and get off the phone

There’s still nature with birdcalls and wind in the trees

Raindrops drumming

Even ants footfalls are heard at their own level

Rivers tumblerun chortling to the sea

Which ebbs and flows to the crunching rhythm of the surf

Deep beneath the earth in caverns or mine shafts

Sound grows dim

Except for the beating of the heart in your chest

And the sound of your breath, inhaled and exhaled

Becoming a cacophony in the dark

But here on this earth there is no quiet of the purest vacuum

Just moments of stillness

When noise recedes to murmur

And you can hear your thoughts forming like volcanic eruptions

Beneath the surface



David Trudel   © 2013




Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Quiet

  1. dulzimordash

    Reblogged this on Spontaneous Creativity.

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