the Quiet does not scare me as it used to,
like the dark would,
like monsters under the bed.
the Quiet was empty;
to be filled.
to be filled by me, more specifically.
I did not like that
pressure.
the Quiet demanded to be filled
with words,
musings.
the overtime work of an inner monologue.
a one woman show.
but I could not fill the Quiet with just any old creation of the mind,
no, that would not do,
not for such an extraordinary occasion as the Quiet.
no, this pulled me into the darkest corners of my mind,
an offering to the Quiet.
the Quiet does not scare me as it used to
because now I know the Quiet is not a hole.
It is not to be filled,
but savored,
listened to even.
It is eating a meal by myself.
the Quiet comes to sit with you.
the Quiet makes for good company.
I invite the Quiet in now,
as I would an old friend.
my friend, the Quiet.
AMV
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