The humming wall
Is bathed in silent light,
That ebbs against the yellow and grey.
Escaping;
In search of something
other than priorities.
Letting them wait,
In this monumental space,
Where they are minute.
And in the chasm,
every second step is a squeak
That eeks in the hanging air.
For in a moment such as this,
When the mechanisms are the loudest things,
The mind is washed in solitude.
The Quiet watches the nothing space,
and all of us within, filling it with words.