The clatter of an old biplane

The clatter of an old biplane

String and paper

Pistons wheezing

In thin air

Noise enough

To fill the silence

Before a broody pigeon

Coos gently

From atop the roof

There is a distaste

For silence absolute,

It is a demand

Never met

Without sacrifice

The belief it exists

Is without doubt

When there is no

Observation

The void this lack leaves

Is not filled

By noise alone

We are witness

To the intrusion

Of sound

A pandemonium

Clamorous in intensity

Vying for attention

Growing ever louder

Filling the emptiness

Drowning out

The absence

Meditation

A discipline in

Self flagellation

Silence is a default

A fallback

From which we

Seek constant escape

Rarely admitting

Our fear

Of asphyxiation

The choking voice

Lost

In the dark