I am the majority whose opinion is not listed. I am unnerving.
A symptom of stress, of solace and solitude. I am a treatment.
For one minute I recall the brave in fields of red remembrance.  In another I am but deadly.

The artist recreating a by-gone era, too easily am I broken.
Holding matriarchs hostage, so to speak,
with their hands on their heads and fingers on lips.

Between friends I am comfortable, amongst fools I’m advised.
The calm before the lovers’ storm. I say it best.
Take my vow, be at one. For golden am I and Holy are my nights.

The unwritten word, the space between the notes
I speak volumes if you can spare a few minutes...
.. .4:33 to be precise.