I might have written this for someone.
Maybe it was just for myself.
Then again, these things always just happen, because they are meant to, not because there is intention.Reticence in Silence
(29. May 2015)
Can you hear that which is silent
Can you love what is unknown,
do the walls of crimson crumble,
or do they flourish as they've shown
words, unspoken, never secret,
need a soul to catch their flow
tumbling mutely down the darkness
into space beyond the glow.
Kissed the shadow of a phantom,
a mutual gaze in past forlorn
reverberates what was forgotten
by something muted by a thorn.
And it’s the eyes that speak of sorrow:
a tacit loss found never more.Poem archive.