It is strange

It is strange how
your mouth tries to form words
and only silence falls out
like ghosts of words
that never lived
and yet somehow died
and turned into ashes

It is strange how
the web of silence is stronger
than the words it snags
or that words are like smoke
mere spectres
that rise and dissolve
into nothingness

It is strange how
when you are utterly still you can see
the dance of the atoms
and beyond that
the symphonies of silence
and you realise
there isn’t anything else