The Voice

There is quiet

While the din continues Emptiness remains, A faint longing ensues.

Listen to them nattering Sharing, screaming, asking, seeking. But, do you hear the aching, the unheard, To those unsaid, to those not speaking?

There are dichotomies within tousled minds Some voices remain mute. Do you listen to silent voices waiting to find A dialect, the argot of mundane repute?

Hush, or miss the serene quiet, Be still, hear them emotions cascade. Or babble until that quiet frail voice like summers’ dew or winter’s fog – falls, to lift; yet silently, burns and fades.

© Nandita Godbole, 2011