The Sound of Silence

   
It is a lost echo    
    a wandering ghost    
an empty room in a Victorian house    
   
It is dust piled on unopened books    
    a writer’s empty page    
a slow winter snowfall    
   
It is incense burning    
    warm sunshine upon dozing cats    
the steady growth of a plant    
   
It is that pause between breaths    
    an unvisited gravestone    
a still woodland pond    
   
It is the artist’s inner concentration    
    the awe at gazing upon shooting stars    
the stage in an empty theatre    
   
It is the meditated mind