A constant presence like,
the rooster crowing at the break of the dawn,
the crickets chirping at nighttime,
the waves crashing onto rocks,
the pouring rain that hits a tin roof,
the thunder that follows a lighting.
It’s all gone quiet now.
A slow regard of silent things has kicked in.
The clattering of the chinaware
and the humdrum of a Saturday morning crowd.
The revving Harley engines,
and the blaring, booming music of Americana.
The high pitched laughs from drunken stupors,
interlacing the rock song that goes forever.
The gentle applause at Lords,
and the cacophonous brass band from Galle.
The lows of a jeering crowd,
and the highs of “Asi, asi, asi gana el Madrid”!
There is an uneasy calm,
an eerie stillness,
and an empty void to fill.
Oh! God of mundane things,
I know silence was coming
But, never expected it to be this deafening.
