Streets Of Solitude

In the resonant noise of continual commotion, as the voice of hysteria feels quietened by the tender touch of consummate calmness, the serene sheath of sentiments sinks slow with uniquely unexpressed notion in the unreachable forsaken depth of the mute mind. When the cacophony outside finally subsides, the unsaid becomes the sound of silence, that vibrates where it finds the desired niche, strikes softly the unknown chord of harmony. The expression enunciates what isn’t conveyed yet from the placid depth of quietude. In the chaotic space of crumbled relationships the squally sentiments spiral outraged in the whirlwind of invasive indignation, where they once grew in the eye of resentment storm. Many hues of sensitivity act in the kaleidoscopic show in the frozen depth of the heart unfeelingly hollow. When the tempest stops after the apocalypse, the designed perceptual shroud of stalled silence spreads in the psychic pathway paved by cogent essence, where the fragrant wind of seraphic spring blows with floral emotions that walk the dormant desires in the desolate streets of solitude.