Once, I went out:
The moon, radient, glowing
She was brighter than she had been
In ages, certainly during my life.
I looked:
Lights twinkled, left on for reasons unknown
And electricity was crackling near someone's home
Breaking the pure,
the blue-white light reflected from the moon
Though an echo of the sun, with a life of its own
I thought they were fools.
And I listened:
Dogs barked, and off in the distance:
The whirr of a motor driving a fan blade
Possibly to cool someone's room.
And other motors, too, belonging to cars
They droned out something that wasn't quite clear.
It couldn't be percieved with my affected ear.
Suddenly, a wind pushed the leaves in the trees
And all was hushed; for a minute, the world was
devoid of humanity: all were gone;
Except for me.
It was at that moment, I realized:
Silence isn't the lack of noise. No, far from it.
Silence is the lack of other humans.
Silence is the feelings that fills you: the only one left.
And silence isn't quiet, it roars its message through you:
"You are the singular sapien.
You are the exception.
You are the one, and none exist like you anymore."
At this moment, I could see past the electricity
Which overexposed my picture of the world.
I was the only one; everyone else was in a realm
Of sleeping wakefulness, or nonexistant reality,
Watching a film of someone else play out in their head.
I shivered.
I took a look at the blue-bathed landscape
and noted that the moon made it quite beautiful.
It seemed as though everything except me,
The exception, the one, the singular sapien,
Had absorbed some of Selene's grace.
Then I walked back inside.
It was quiet inside.
But it was not silent.
Author's Notes
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This was the first poem I ever completed, and was the start of my poetry collection.
