Friday, February 20, 2015

Silence


My words,
Are so many things,
Agents of chaos,
Acerbic, despondent, a river,
Of tranquility,
Comforting, reflective, a murmuration
Of starlings, wild and impulsive,
Or like wet paint,
On a thirsty canvas, longing to be,
Touched, to be ordained,
And yet when I stare at the stars,
In your eyes,
I'm parched and,
Heady from their light,
Words can never hope to substitute,
The volumes that we will speak tonight.

Image Courtesy - The Conscious Process

1 comment:

Gazal Bharadwaj said...

In your eyes,
I'm parched and,
Heady from their light,
Words can never hope to substitute,
The volumes that we will speak tonight...
beautiful. you remind me of a song...
westside written in the stars...