Silence.
Night shadows
moaning and lightning.
Silence of repeated things.
Lost things in the voice
absence.
Of the thundering noise.
That silence which sounds
as a swish of a
pen
run over a paper sheet:
flow with the lightness
of the wind’s breath
pushed by wind itself.
Supported by the same
silence.
Modest, never attempt
by anxiety to be chit-chat
she aspire at the omnipotent
universal hall
which rules quiet
the symphony
of forgetful
silence.
Silence is just passed:
as usual unheeded
by the man’s substitute
totally stunned
by the frenetic roaring.
By his disgusting
voice.
Broken by few vain
whispers.
Debilitate by the childish
chattering of gossiper and gossip.
Silence returns
to be
the lethal assassin
of the mad
of the child
of the foreign carer frightened
by the expiry of residence
permit.
Silence returns to live
his valleys
his inaccessible mountains passes
his never-ending
ecstatics pauses.
His eternal soliloquy
expand itself
in the sidereal darkness of a
space
by a long time overpowered
in which like absolute
ruler
go around lonely
ours mute
adventurer.