Serenity; a poem

There is nothing, then everything,
a thought drifts like a feather in the silence,
are we the noise, or are we the silence?
perhaps both,
perhaps neither.

The stillness is arresting,
and I melt,
into the quiet,
where even the sharpest edges soften,
and the world sheds its weight.

In this softness, form is forgotten,
boundaries dissolve,
and I drift like snow,
in the space beyond words,
where the pulse of life throbs, indifferent,
you are more than you know.

The pain of being human dims,
and in its place; ineffable beauty,
serenity one can rest in,
where noise and silence co-exist
on the same invisible stage,
and we are neither,
and we are both.