In the Cause of Quietness

They smile no longer as they used to
These eyes I mean
Those lips have dried long ago
Fallen far away
Into a different world, a different time,
When not all darkness was black, and not all brightness was white,
A different world, a different time.

They no longer see as they used to
These hands I mean
Those eyes have closed long ago
Tears set them free,
And now all they feel is the roughness of life
Sunlight as sandpaper,
Moonbeams, as knife.

They no longer live as they used to,
The dead I mean
Forever in motion
Reaching nowhere at all,
And now all they wish is the cause of quietness
Which they fear if ever,
One may hear, after all.

Author: TheHumanAnvil

I find poetry as a gentle reminder, a medium to relay and dwell upon all things considerate people find inconsiderate. Poetry as an art is akin to a lamp or a magnifying glass. It trails volumes of meaning behind obscure, vague words. I have been writing for a time now, and intend to do so for the time to come. And hopefully, hopefully, hope that one day, someday, a person stumbling across this veil of words, find it alluring enough to shift aside the curtain and peer, into the eyes of the naked truth which sways with the wind of reason. If you have any thoughts, it would be my pleasure to know them, if you don't then it would be a pleasure to not. Be my guest. This feast of words is for you.

5 thoughts on “In the Cause of Quietness”

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