Sometimes at night I lie awake and listen—
I find strange comfort in the noisy silence.
Until one truly listens, one will never hear,
All of the noises present just beneath the silence.
The tick tock of clocks, is heard by most,
But the whirl of a spring tightening is harder to notice.
Hearing a breath being drawn in and forced out is easier still,
But the beat of your own heart is almost unperceivable.
The howling wind of winter, is no trouble to hear,
But the whisper of a breeze on a still night is a pleasant melody.
In the middle of a raging storm that thunders and pours,
Can you hear the sound of a single rain drop as it strikes the window?
What do you hear when you listen to the silence—
Can you distinguish the sweet lullaby there?