I yearn for Silence every day,
Otherwise brimming with the noise
Of all those expectations.

How euphoric it is to sit in quiet,
With my tea cup,
The stack of letters laying ignored to my left,
And be in that liberating solitude.

To watch the wind rustle through the rosemary *** on the porch,
And be utterly nothing
But myself.

There is no pantomime in the stillness,
No role to play in tranquility.
Shirk your persona!
Unshackle that heavy façade!
In the darkness we all release that sigh of relief,
Satisfied by the invisibility,

By the absence of another.