Silence

I am that minute duly observed,

In the honor of the dead.

I am the words that roll each night,

At the other side of the bed.

I am what returns to haunt,

When a door is brutally closed.

I am that mark on her body,

Of a will that is often forced.

I take the opportunity to listen,

So others can speak.

If I am the sound of apathy,

Then I am also the strength in weak.

I am the speed that sound lacks,

To match its steps with the light.

I am the peace you shall feel,

When you, with the universe, unite.