Quiet

   Quiet is an odd creature
Stretching lips and reaching shadows
Smiling hands lead by anxious widows
Breath is stilled by sudden winds as lives are torn, replaced by crying children.

  Quiet is a comfy place
Pillows brought by serving mice
Where fires die and waters cease
Traffic is eaten by the moon and taillights stutter into an early absence.

  Quiet is a running snow
Enjoyed by those who have known it well
Unimaginable and feared by mystic places
Trumping feet behind eardrums pace the floors of nothingness.

 Quiet is the colors of dark
Stealing your soul to a hidden place
Where witches whisper the truth of lambs
Education for the pen we hold to our bleeding hearts with itchy fingers.

 Quiet is the breath before laughter
Preparing our words for judges
Take our minds for sacrifice to toads
Drink down the sorrow and leave the can beside your empty roads.

 Quiet is fulfillment
Hold your friends with hands in storms
Leaking coffins turn the tables once more
Breathe in the stars and capture one last sight of them.

 Quiet is in walking away
Pounding, aching, screaming chance
Swim through the lava to freedom
Play the key of never again to the tune of her last words.

 Quiet is the end
Knowing when they've beat you down
Throwing kings into the rivers of battle cries
Deriving numbers out of the way you sing your song to the clouds.

 Quiet is the one
Never ending something that limbs can't repeat
Chorded insects to gear you for what comes next
Never miss what you last retain through pity of life poorly spent.

 Quiet is the stillness
Achieve the longing of lonely tongues
Aging slowly to the dimmer sun
Redness cries from stones to the many blue, and blue to the iris of yellow.

 Quiet is a spark
Justify to queen of toes and doors
Dig in to salt and watch the life
Will it come this way or pass us by while draining the fog as it goes.

 Quiet is always light
Death none too swift for the cattle
Striking birds to defy the lightening once again
Him more than here to fall against the setting mountain.