It is void,

The abscence,

The sound of 

Absolute zero,

Of nothingness.


It clamors in my ears, 

Pounds through my head,

Rattles into my bones

For it's attention.

It makes me notice it,

Acknowledge it's existence.


The reverberating echo

Of all that is not

Digs it's icy claws

Into my soul and demands

For me to love it.


I cannot stand the silence,

But my own voice has fallen, 

Lost in the sands of time

That vanish into the winds

Of change, rustling through

Windchimes that make

Not a single sound

But their movement is seen.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Half-asleep currently, but this decided it had to be written before I went to bed.

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Diamond_Wills_New_War's picture

Sounds like you're in a world

Sounds like you're in a world of your own.

Long days and pleasant nights


nightlight1220's picture

Sounds like a nice

Sounds like a nice opportunity to relax and do nothing. Jump on it!!


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


allets's picture

"Windchimes that make Not a

"Windchimes that make

Not a single sound

But their movement is seen."


That line gave me goosebumps and pins and needles and ... well you get the idea. Nice Write ~A~