No one hears
our thunder...

No one feeds
our hunger...

and yet ...

In the stillness of the night
    when you look above...

A beam of light ...
blinds the sight
and splits the sky in perfect half
as if to say on our behalf :
"Leave them be,
in sweet delight..."

No one knows
how it flows...
how it bleeds...
how it feeds...

No one knows  how it grows...
No one knows how it glows...
this winter rose
of quiet repose.....

I say...Let it be..
Let it compose...

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SILENCE SPEAKS