There is no quiet, silence is a myth
There is always a beat
Thrumming hums come from the earth
The sky sings the songs of birds, birthed to the heavens – an empty, free, bliss of wind and air

The dark things crawl, slither and stoop
Burying wet clods of dirt and peat
The darkness fills the life of a hushed moment
The serpentine spendor is a part of us too: our depth, our fear, our turn to turn in too
The vile is essential to the beating heart

I throw a flayed flesh to the ground, naked in an exposé
Vulnerable until you turn away
It’s not pretty but it’s true
It’s not pleasing but it hits
Given a life that’s pulsing and breathing, my darkness on display

The hush is loud with a murmur of dissent
I beg you to hear the noise hidden in the lull
Close your eyes to hear the truth