The Silent Storm by Brian Henson

The Silent Storm The hum, the grind, the music beat– They start to surge in force Until the bang hits in the ear, And one escapes the source…

The source is the environment Where sounds are uncontrolled; And yet when asked to ease the strain, The quest is seen as “cold”.

As there is no alternative Than to escape the bang, It’s like one’s trying to escape The bullet and the gang…

Once out, and far away, relief Is felt, but now alone, The individual, as one, must face A life next to a stone.

That stone is not a social byte; But humans crave to be Connected to another kin Through their humanity.

So as the person, who begs peace And quiet times, essays To reach out to the world, he finds That time is but delays…

Delays in understanding peace; Delays in silent form, Delays in seeking inner strength, Before the silent storm.

But these delays do not annul The want of reaching out To others who have felt the peace, And put aside the doubt.

As more souls put aside the doubt, And listen to their heart, The silence will increase to force The noise to, then, depart…