The Passion in Silence

The air is still tonight. I hear the sirens down the street beckoning to me to come join them in their merriment. But no, it is late and I must sleep soon. The bed sits there--warm, inviting--like the arms of a mother to her newborn. But soon it will be empty. Soon I will be gone, moved on to a new chapter in my life. What will become of this place? It's just a single room, I'm just a single man, a simple man. It will grow cold, bereft of the warmth it once gave so freely. It will grow tired, stricken of the life it once housed. It will grow silent, every last melody plucked from the air onced breathed. The silence... I can hear it now. Sleeping, still like the air, like I will be in moments. But now I write.

What will become of me? The future holds her slender hand to mine, and I eagerly grab hold. She leads me to new places, new art, and new love. Her flowing hairs, tendrils of opportunity, shimmer in the moonlight. Eyes closed, I run my hand through the strands and breathe deeply. The flavor of life fills my throat and my heart, and my eyes erupt to the stars. Out there... that's where I'm going. That's where I will find my philosophy, my music, my life... and my love. That is where it will begin.