A quiet prevailed upon the room.
Wherein, impatient papers
had given psithurism
its desired say.
Flat vowels droned on
in their
monotonous soliloquy.
‘Til at last silence;
Someone clapped
and others followed suit.
I felt such a fool sitting there:
a muted soul
alone in thought.
Mor.
This reveals the silence of listening and what a person learns in that moment. Richard is right, the amount of times that muted soul exemplifies the true poet looking in from the outside. This is taken to heart, Mor as it should by everyone. Great write...
In Spirit,
Bear