The Art of Silence

You wake up screaming
at two in the morning
They are no longer there

Having taken their things
and followed the wind
Traveling like ripples
in a wave

Disappeared, from this life
from you, from everything
Never returning, but if they
do then they were yours in
the beginning

Silence beyond the grave
beyond the hope that your screams
will seek them out
That you will find them once again

But everything has been muted
and once again you find yourself
at the hands of your maker
in Silence