Silence

Amidst the infinite noises,
Amidst the buzzing voices,
Surrounded by deafening sound,
I wish for Silence unbound.
But, tell me, what is silence?
Does it make any sense,
To wish for no speech,
No cliktyclanky cleech?
Is silence freedom from the sound
From howling hounds?
From clanging on ground?
From sermons of the renowned?
Doesn’t sound have a silence?
And Silence, a sound?
The noise of silence?
The silence of noise?
Ask the accused, who stands
In the court, with tied hands,
Silently watching the noise,
Is he really silent, boys?
Ask the couple who are together,
each of them trying to gather,
Silently, each others company,
That silence speaks more than words many.
Ask the little guy who sleeps,
About the dreams he keeps,
In store for a silent night,
Silently his words alight.
Then I ask myself, silence is what?
The silence above, is it that?
Or is it the Solitude
of a different altitude?
Physical sound , in vacuum dies,
But what about the mental cries?
Is no sound, their vacuum?
Is that silence, can I assume?
That but is, violence,
What I search, with a lens,
Is for tranquillity,
Not an arrest to mental ability.
For silent silence is death,
And noisy silence is hell,
And silent noise is heaven,
And noisy noise is torture.
For Silence, I find,
Is a state of mind
Away from questions upsetting,
Away from answers depressing,
Away from forces suppressing,
In a Utopia of dance and sing,
Where the mind is on a swing,
Creates its own sound,
In its own Voice
Its own noise of Silence!
That, my dear, is Silence