The noise of words spins our heads,
a blur in a world stripped of silence.
We climb mountains—jagged and steep,
we sink beneath the sea’s heavyweight,
but even there, no refuge,
just the desperate cry of our inner voice,
parched and pleading for the quiet we’ve lost.

In this world, hunger is a flaw,
abundance, the god we serve.
Where simple feelings fall out of fashion,
it’s all or nothing—nothing at all.
And the lucky ones?
They’re the blind, the deaf,
unaware of the chaos,
immune to the chase
for what’s hollow and fleeting.

We drown in a flood of excess,
where the loudest noise wins,
where desire is currency,
and silence, a rare and dying breed.

I choose to stay hungry,
untouched by the clamor of more,
but full—nourished by my silence.
Let the world rush,
let it howl and roar,
I’ll carve my space from the quiet,
where the only voice that lingers
is my own.