Entering the silence is like

stepping into a frosty snowscape

nude

or sweltering in a sauna stoked with

bright embers.

Silence will singe your wings

and frost your figurative pumpkin.

Silence knows the score.

I said to silence,

“Shut up and let me breathe.”

But silence put its hand over my

mouth and I gasped for air.

The void needs oxygen;

oxygen needs nothing.

Perhaps if I go out and come

in again, this time it will be fine.