The end of a poem:
silence stills the mind
as all the vibrant colors
the songbird notes of music
playing behind open eyes
drift untethered to their end.
The pause of expectation,
the hesitation of thought,
or perhaps the absence of beauty
is as potent as its presence:
a reminder that all things end
within the comfort of contemplation.
The end of a poem
Stops not with the last drop
of inked hopes and dreams,
but with a soundless echoing.
It is the hollow lull
that allows all else to speak.
What is a poem without an end?
A collection of cacophonous music,
A strand of convoluted images,
Confused, speaking ad nauseum.
Find joy in a silent reprieve
adding depth to your meaning.
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