Aphonic Quietude
by Odin Roark

Quietude,
Like a tree’s dark shadow,
Knows only the absorption of all colors,
Rendering the din of senses
A cacophonous silence.

How gentle the process
As resistance abates,
The mind calling upon its own deprivation tank,
Engendering trust void of fear.

Yet…

So hesitant are many
To embrace the pure light,
To wait out nature’s tintinnabulation,
The white noise becoming aphonic.

To lay oneself down
Afloat atop the water,
The grass,
The ethereal reality of consciousness,
Where leaves of brown
Beneath the awaiting orange of
Red and yellow, repeat nature’s cycle.

So gently Jasmine lures the mulch of life
Into purity’s gateway,
Patiently biding time’s eternal truth,
Enjoining one with zero.

The hush of peace,
The quiet of love,
The mutation of hate,
All conjoin in harmony’s sublime reward,
The circle of quietude.