Silence deepens within me like a black rock,
when scientists discovered that even plants speak in their own language.
My silence remains silent, like a thorned rose untouched by anyone.
Only I know the depths of that rock, the breath of the rose’s silence.
And my black heart,
my breath of stone,
which is terrifying like the portrait of  Gray, weighed down by its gravity.
my hands that cross in sleep, protecting me from loneliness.
Oh, my silence,
my silence,
silence,
dark silence,
shrouded in mystery,
you, yourself, within your own being.