Entitled Silence

silence is an old friend of mine,

who visits at the best and worst of times;

it cocoons me in its immense, bare bliss

or torments me with its echoing abyss

silence commands utter reverence;

it will either bring you down to your knees

or drift you up to utopia with its attendance

sometimes it sounds like a prayer,

its feverish whirr chanting for decree

or it sounds like a damning curse,

quietly deranging until sense disperses;

silence is an old enemy of mine

its meaning often refusing to be defined

my protector when nothing would defend

a weapon, relishing its ability to snare

silence either hums along rhythmically

or roars and wrecks about destructively;

upon its return, I can always depend

whether it determines to save or slay me

drowning me in its endless depths

or redeeming me in a quiet death

at least I know it will always be

silence is sometimes a lonesome world

but it is often where genius whirls

though odd, it is an answer in itself

as well as the question quietly knelt

silence is a distance, savage and cold

or a journey of love and enlightenment

silence sure is a spectacle to behold

in all forms, it's filled with entitlement