PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As I sit on the cool, dusty stone steps, you take a breath. Your words begin to flow, telling a beautiful riddle. I remind myself to carefully organize these spoken words into a sentence of truth and meaning. I hear its beauty, but a heavy silence falls over the garden just beyond the stones on which your wooden chair rests. I can feel it deep within. It crept so slowly, undetectable. But it consumed the space before the last spoken word translated to a mere thought. The air isn't thick, it simply doesn't exist. And with the air, time abandons the garden, with nothing left but the deafening hum of silence, screaming of the shadows escaping. Invisible shadows. They join hands with the thick silence and trap me in a numbness, inevitable, with my lungs trapped without air as the silence fills them, frozen in a moment of submersion. I feel the shadows, not pointing fingers, but cradling me in their hypnotizing, comforting grip. Then I am free. My mind is free to remember the shadows; to cling to their existence, so that mine is validated. The sunlight draws my eyes closer, swimming through the ocean of silence. I drift in the waves, rocked by my tender shadows. I could live here forever in this place if time wouldn't come rushing back, returning the foreign sounds that must be words if only I had enough strength to decipher their meanings. But I must. I know my shadows are still holding me up. But for now, I must remember to breathe. I dont have to do more than that. Nothing more is required. I know once the words cease, my shadow ocean will still be waiting, ready to surface as soon as I forget to breathe again.