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