It isn’t always quiet
Within the enclosed space
Of these four walls
Where my breath resonates
As a vacant search
Through darkness
For some sort of comfort
A happy thought
Or effervescent memory
The silence probes me
With disembodied whispers
Its quest more resolute
Than my own
To find company
That disrupts its still voice
With a soulful cadence
Coaxing a helpless hum
Deep from my throat
Erasing its nothingness
Into a lullaby
Filling our emptiness
Nomad Writer 
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