The Broken Silence

Sometimes, the silence is broken,
and then we hear the loud,
sound of the crowd.

Words pour like waterfall,
and we hear them all.

The times we embraced the silence,
nothing comes in between.

The silence accompanies,
the silence sings,
the silence ties up all the strings.

And now it is broken,
most probably temporary,
just never more than transient,
for silence is more permanent.

Because silence is in the air,
we breathe and we live with it.

Sound breaks the silence away,
words and syllables,
sound and letters,
interwoven among them,
then perish again.

For whatever starts, will end.

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