The geometry of silence
The weather of a melancholic
But always needed sometimes,
The geometry of silence turns
And is not perfect until
You need it to be.
Need it to be.
After a day when silence wraps
Like a warm blanket
It’s almost like long-prayed-for
Not joyous, but comforting.
When left alone long enough,
Subjects begin to emerge out of the earth,
Under your feet; where you can hope
The earthworms hold some sort of wisdom
Like the wisdom you foolishly lack.
Noisy triangles are silenced with concepts
Of the world trapped within screaming
Squares of conformity circling round the
Scope of obscurity (infinity)—all’s lost.
If the subject had been physics—
There would be nothing left to talk about.