Emptiness and Echoes

So accustomed to noise are we,
Our minds provide it
In our rare moments of silence.

When we cannot feel the world anymore,
We attempt to become the world,
A process fraught with anxiety,
And rife with chaos.

It is the silence we fear:
Discovering only then
What we truly believe the world to be,
Past our lies and our slogans:

Emptiness and echoes,
Regrets and recriminations,
And a desire, at all costs,

To keep the noise going

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure. View all posts by Beleaguered Servant