It begins with a whisper.
One thought,
one voice,
one blow upon the dam
to a restless river.

Silence.

This dark duet
of doubt
of uncertainty;
two thoughts to feed
two voices to fetter
two fiends to fuel
an unruly fire,
stronger.
louder,
bigger yet.

Silence.

No, it crescendoes!
Voices rising,
rising,
rising,
like mephitic vapors—
I inhale.
I choke.
I scream.
But no one hears me.
No one hears what's inside my head.

Silence.

Please, be quiet
lest I ruin me,
you,
and all that I love;
draw a line in the sand,
sift out these voices of right
and wrong
of good
and bad
of truth
and lies
because these voices lie
oh yes, they do.
And if I know me—
every crevice
every crack
every word written in my heart
by my God, O my God, who made
every crevice
every crack
every word written in my heart—
how can they know me too?

Silence.

You wicked voices!
Yes, I know what you do to
stir fear
distrust
anxiety
until I have no choice
but to listen to the voices.

Silence.

No more.
No more voices,
or restless rivers,
or unruly fires,
or mephitic vapors.
Just—

Silence.

Blissful silence.
I can breathe
and close my eyes
to the black symphonies of
silence.

Yet, in the absence
in the void
a single note echoes
indiscernible in the buzz
but this is silence
and in the silence
things become louder
until I crave the noise again.