The Golden Rule of Silence

I float and

Linger in quiet places,

A

Swirling mist

Around tattered

Books and

Half-opened eyes.

There I am

Welcomed,

Acknowledged,

Accepted.

I curl up

Like a cat,

Content to rest

As they

Abide

By me.

In the mess

Of notes

And children

And

Burning noise,

I am

Ignored,

Fighting to be

Recognized

Yet again.

I hunker down

In a corner,

Defiant

Through and through,

As my control

Slips further away.

I close

My eyes,

And melt,

Deep into the

Floor.

A contradiction

Of non-existence,

For as they speak

Of me,

They defy

My very nature.

A waking of a

New day,

After the dusk

Of one ended.

I am their

Ultimate theory,

Their wish

That they

Refuse to

Live for.

Crumbling silently,

Always silently,

My ashes scatter

To the far

Reaches of

This mortal realm,

A prayer for the

Believers,

A curse

For the blasphemous.

Slowly I drift

To sleep

In black

And white,

Where even

Static

Does not exist.