What was once thought the end is but the beginning and all the words make no difference when silence is our final reply.
Silence Is our Reply by Michael Doyle In the black and white of integration There is a bit of awkward insinuation That at time cheapens us all As we float in the free fall Of unnecessary anger That brings us the danger It send us endlessly running Certain the Devil is outgunning The better angel, we wish to be The bitter angel, we dread to see Dying as we stumble Ever downward as we crumble Collapsing the one sided reality For all of its malleability A force of one in the name of chi Filled with fickle energy When at once we see with emphasis That once needed has become our nemesis With a look, she strikes us down Stealing from us our victor's crown Torrid towers castle in a rain storm Torn nobility from the bosom of the new norm We fall backward into our forced death Calculated in the outcome of our very last breath Everything living must come to die You turn me to stone in your reply The left and right of our hemispheres Walk us in traces past our fears Self and yet non-self of it all We are released as we recall For the good or for the ill We think thoughts as we feel All for that very reason Unified at last with our passing season All of the ghosts in this museum Wonder if we truly seem them This is not the end This is how it begins Standing unafraid As our plans fail as we've made Falling forward And ever toward The whirlpool inside God's eye Silence is our last reply (c) April 13, 2020 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
