There exists a space,
That escapes all vision.
Drapes the known in the unknown...
And feeds the seekers division.
..........................................................
No sound is ever heard,
Nor words uttered.
Only Silence that echoes over elision...
Like Taping stitches over incisions.
The flesh etches to seal the pain,
While the train of thought migrates,
Beyond the stationary brain,
To the boundless mindlessness,
Akin to the void, that's felt;
After all words had left.
©poetree
P