SILENCE

Silence

and for a brief instance

the world stands still,

and the roving spirit

crests the hill of solitude.

And then the dripping tap of memory

fills the mind with noise.

The sound of past occurrences,

blaring of triumphant hopes,

the muted strains of profitless experience;

the terrible maddening noise.

You grapple with remembrance

without success,

in efforts to retain oblivion.

Amidst the crescendo

and mounting turmoil of emotions

a small voice says “It was not so”,

but soon its tone is smothered.

You feel that life is slipping from your grasp

and fight a losing battle with despair,

till finally your will is overcome.

And then –

silence.

Longmoor, July 1949