Sometimes, I prefer to sit in silence

listening to my own nothingness.

I close my mouth with firm defiance

and wait to feel the world turn.


I hover as a lingering presence –

a snowflake in the dry desert,

but without such uniqueness or luminescence,

merely out of intended place.


Your comforts and qualms fall on deaf ears –

they are redundant, tiresome almost.

It's just something I have learnt from past years;

I want nothing more than the welcomed quiet.


That's not to say that there isn't sound,

of voices and music and lyrics,

but I want only to listen and not be drowned

in the hum of unwanted concern.


And if you catch me in my stillness,

excluded from the turning of the world,

don't try to make me spin, it's just useless.

Become motionless with me.


Only, separately.