The TV plays on in silence in the background,
and i watch it like it's a painting i no  longer understand,
nor want to.
I sit here amongst the noise,
silently hearing the voice in my head repeating the same
dead voices from the past,
though not from dead men, nor women.
And in the silences,
where i should be more aware,
I am, very too well,
as i should be more conscious,
I am, too well,
as i should be more mindful,
my mind, is full.
And if  i should be silent between the trees, breathing,
between the leaves, breathing
the branches, breathing
and the sky, breathing,
I should, take, a breath;
but my feet, they makes this sound
as i walk on  through  life,
reminding me ever so succinctly,
this is just one version of life.
And it should be by the ocean,
the breeze, I am breathing
and the sand, I feel like i am breathing,
where the silence should come to me,
easily, as i breathe......
But the waves, they don't care,
they're here anyway, to remind me,
this is life,
it goes on.
And in each silence in a conversation,
I am lost, because i forgot how to talk from being so quiet
in order to remember who i really am.
So i sit in front of a mourning picture, or i walk through a living
epitome of life, or i stand
at the precipice of the circle of life, and even now,
I am clearly forgotten, in the silence,
of being, me.