but the silence is deafening

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it flows over me
suffocation
scuttling glacial current
pungent cloud, languid
wrapped in wings of leather
panging
a leaden shroud
in cold calculation

i can hear nothing
i can witness nothing
i feel nothing

the weight of all existence
forced down, pressing
oblivion.

silence is the
thunderous echo of voices
voices of We
all folded together, meticulous
patterned intricately, molded

to consume the torturous cries
a bitter mind, unfit
to lash out

We were not prepared for this.

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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6 thoughts on “but the silence is deafening

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