Only
the
roaring
storm
calms
Her

Her words make mighty mountains tremble

And
Sometimes
You just need a
Moment, to sit and listen
To the noise of the world around
You as the chaos inside of your head
Finally begins to quiet
And watch
The snow
Fall

Said it soft and slowly,
With words tantalized and teased me,
Had me hanging on the edge of your twisted blade,
Thought you were here to set me free,
Instead you plucked off all my feathers,
One by one,
Recounting poems of romance and doves,
As you took away my beauty,
And striped away the bone,
With kisses and your wicked teeth,
You bled me out and with malicious might-
Took my heart and fled in the night,
But I am not a feeble creature,
My vigor burns eternally, bright,
My bones mended and my feather grew back,
Black instead of white,
My innocent appearance left to smolder,
My ebony cloak gleams,
Beneath which my scars are seen,
This wicked phoenix is not dead,
But born again from my own sea of red,

When the roaring winds quiet and the crashing waves subside,
What's left is a silent picture,
A still frame of destruction,
A single image worthy of awe,
When the final chord is strummed and the last beat drummed,
What's left is an eerie silence,
A mental echo of the sounds,
A silent vibration through the air,
When the bright lights burn out and the world starts to slumber,
What's left is a somber mood,
A time to contemplate,
A chance to experience true silence,

Take the time to marvel at the after-image, the absence of sound, the Silence of night,
For actions are only as meaningful as the thought given to them in their Absence.