Returning alone
after work.
The shack
sitting empty,
waiting
for no one;
mist rising
from the still meadow
like silky,
slender ghosts;
the trees
keep their thoughts
to themselves;
a light rain
begins to fall;
no sounds,
but bird sounds
and my own breath,
both hushed.
How far away
the world
and all its bustle.
Money, ambition,
achievement
and success -
the cacophony
of modern life,
just so much noise.
In this silence,
I become
the best part
of silence:
myself.
- mce
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