How does one speak when words resemble noise?
The hurts and wounds that lay beneath flesh and bones,
In the midst of a storm.
To see, is to close your eyes,
To hear, is to still the sounds inside and out,
To feel, is to not touch a thing,
To love, is to be empty of all consuming self,
In the midst of this storm.
Understanding is not to know,
Life is not to be wasted,
Fear is not to be held onto,
Time is present and never in retreat,
In the midst of the storm.