The Silence

There are those who die young,

those whose young die before them,

those whose youth is gone long before they die,

those who die without ever knowing youth,

those who mourn their youth until they die,

those who have no memory of youth at death.

In the end, they all die; this is the journey.

We are on our way out from the moment we enter.

There are those who cannot escape this haunting knowledge,

those who live as if it does not apply to them,

those who live because they know it does,

those who imagine an escape through incantation,

those who chant in an attempt at elevation,

those who chant, incant, and meditate,

those who sit and watch the seasons change,

those who never notice that they did.

There are those who think they’ve come to understand,

those who do not imagine that you can,

those who would rather not even try.

those who can’t help but always question why,

those who imagine that everything means,

those who believe that nothing is what it seems.

There are those who fill the silence and those who enjoy it,

and yet neither really changes it.