Among the oaks sits the silence of man,
it sits without stir and without a cause,
believed to be the undiscovered land,
the leaves do not fall, laying at a pause.

The light of the sun gently settles down,
through branches broken only by the shamed
upon scarred leaves that cover the ground
fear of losing love and all to be gained.

The eternal winter has come to stay
as softened ground has come only to hear
sounds of the masses who refuse to pray.

Through all sounds, if you give just one ear,
You'll still hear whispering above the land
the beauty that is the silence of man.