Silence, is but a word spoken,
Listen close, the silence is always broken.
Birds singing in the trees, the rustling leaves,
Flowers humming with near by bees flying in the breeze.
If you listen closly, there is always a sound,
The Kaw of a Crow, or a howl of a hound.
Is silence real, or a thought,
Can you mine it, find it, can it be bought?
Even in my mind silence can not be found,
For thoughts are traveling ever round and round.
Silence, is but a word, for it can not be real,
Sound is even under water from a whale to a seal.
Caves flutter with the wings of bats,
The floors covered in roaches and rats,
Scrapeing, scuddeling, squeeking as they look for food,
Can it be that silence possibly a mood?
Search for it if you will, I have yet to find,
Silence of the day, night, or even in my mind.
I know not the truth, with all that's been said,
The only silence we'll find, is in our final bed.