Whispers of Truth

The creation soo gripping,

the pleasures soo fleeting,

the love so intoxicating,

you whisper in my ears,

o dear truth,

in a rythm of silence,

always,

but I hear it not,

but sometimes I get close,

to hearing it,

This silence is opposite of quitness,

This silence is stormy than the storm,

this silence is beating more and more,

In this never ending chaos of world,

I sometimes have breaks,

but those breaks become stormier than storms,

they become so strong, that they take form of silence,

To contain a storm forever,

requires a form of silence,

this sane insanity of having storm,

is just killing me,

but I am not yet killed,

because its tune is silent,

some songs rythm storm,

some song rythm pride,

but some songs don't even have sound,

cause the intensity of song is beyond words and sounds,

This silence is rare visitor,

it visits after some storm,

may I be blessed with such storms,

storms that become as intense as silence,

for a lot of readers, this poem might be mumbo jumbo,

maybe it is, may be its not