In Memory of Quiet

This never-ending noise is grating.

Pointless at best

exhausting at least

at worst, strangling the soul.

Clamoring for attention,

claiming more time than it earns-

An earworm worming its way

wielding Wormwood's words

in the woods I've stopped seeing

through the trees careening

to the ground without a sound

ignored by everyone around

not seeking truth but only sound

to fill the silence that they've found

to be oppressive.

Rest!

If only we could just

arrest the rush

and hush a minute.