There Is Only Silence

There is shear silence

within the soul

whose scales of thoughts

are measured strictly by the five senses.

 

Those who only know providence

by the feel in the pocket,

the simpler presence of practical provision

depended upon as augments for life through logical means.

 

Heaven maybe the perfect bliss

of visionaries and prophets,

but it doesn’t feed today’s hunger

or end the scourge of villainous terrors.

 

Can’t deny the fickle essence

found in nature’s array of volatile vicissitudes,

it is proven rationale of what prevails in probabilities.

 

Inside there is the suppressed repository in ethereal murmurs,

though we can deny their notes

see only the ravages of evil’s talons

amid the layers and lattices in life.

But if the spirit has ears in all that chaos,

what comes when we stop our chants of complaint

long enough to discover the still small voice,

like a wind in its subtle sway,

is something so serene and comforting.

 

Will it irradiate the tyranny

of Satan’s thumbprint from the earth

then bring an end to all inequity?

History’s scribe has never recorded a period

for the story of that dominion.

 

Yet, despite the perils, pains, tears and struggle,

peace has only been the mantle of my sorrow

when I let it be from the Lord’s raiment,

embraced by a trust that has accepted

though it might not be seen by others,

all I have encountered

affirms for me in many ways that can’t be explained,

which covers me and grants me sight

through something beyond myself

truly eternal and alive no matter what others say.