With your absence present, there is silence,
A strong desire I yearn to achieve.
A perfect sign of my independence,
The greatest gift I could ever receive.
The words you utter are roses with thorns,
Which they come in barrels or in mountains.
Delivering them through flutes or through horns,
Flowing river streams or gushing fountains.
Then sudden silence is now what I hear,
Something I thought to be a surreal lore.
Delight did not come but instead it was fear!
That I could not hear your voice anymore.
This silence is my realization,
That your sweet voice was my true salvation!