Lyrical Riffs The gift and the tyranny,
At the self-same moment,
It may be the one thing
That restores order,
Brings peace,
Effects precious sanity,
And yet,
At the same time,
It may be the tyranny that,
Suppresses truth,
Removes the voice from those
Longing to be heard.
It may be the screaming
Sound of silence
That reinforces the loneliness
In a precious person’s night,
The walls that close in,
The grip that constricts,
Withholding the oxygen of friendship,
Adding insult to injury,
For the wounded and ignored.
That quiet place,
Those moments of calm,
Can bring solace or pain,
Peace or frustration
Sanity or despair,
Direction or closed doors.
The longing for quiet,
The longing to be heard.
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