Exleston

The Silence Prison.

You ask me - but words fail me.
My heart is bursting with things unsaid.
Words fail me.
How can I speak the unheard and the unspeakible?
Besides- your ears are closed.
What words can I say that you will hear?
My words fall -spoken and unspoken- like stones around me.
Stones becomig walls, a cell...
The Silence Prison.

My words are the children of reason...
Unborn and aborted.
A failure to see.
If it's my fault -I lacked reason.
If it's your's - then you ignored reason.
So how can I speak?
Reason is dead.
Not in these walls does it live.
And without?
Who knows.
What can live in this cell?
I'm almost dead.
The Silence Prison.

Shall I speak my heart?
Who can speak the unspeakible?
Shall I speak my mind?
Who can speak the unheard?
I feel so alone.
My words leave me as I say them.
Laughing without reason at my loss.
How Can I speak?
The Silence Prison.

How can I say you've hurt me?
When you say my words offend you?
You think I'm trying to hurt you.
My speach an attack on you.
My words you treat like blows.
As if I speak to fight you.
I open my mouth, you raise your hand to defend yourself.
What can I say?
The Silence Prison.


My words, they challange you.
Yes, but not to your hurt.
How can I speak to you?
You say you want to know right and wrong.
But do you bothrer to ask what is?
If you never ask the question- you will never be told the answer.
So you don't ask.
You are always right- because you never ask if you're wrong.
How can I tell you you're wrong?
When there's no question if you are?
What can I say if you cannot hear?
The Silence Prison.

My heart aches.
I feel lonely.
How can I speak of what isn't there?
Of what I don't have?
I am so lonely.
I know I'm missing something- what I don't have.
But do I know what I want?
How can I speak of silent tears?
Can you hear the cries of my heart?
How can I tell you of them?
The Silence Prison.

You think you're right- you know you're right.
So what's against you must be wrong.
How can I challange you?
I'm already wrong even before I speak.
I used to think like you- maybe I still do.
But I don't want to.
Not any more.
You once asked me if I thought it could be.
I said I didn't want to know.
Because if it could ... then is it right?
I didn't want to know.
And neither did you.
You still don't.
You are content to know what you know, and believe what you believe.
Even if it's a lie.
What is against you is damned even before it can be proven inocent.
Even me- if I say you are wrong.
So how can I speak?
The Silence Prison.




More than words.
The thrills of my heart confuse me.
What are the words of the heat of love?
How can I speak of the freedom of flight?
My heart would soar- but to leave the ground is wrong.
Or is it?
More than words are the joys and fears of my heart.
What can I say?
The Silence Prison.

You say it's wrong.
So to think of it is wrong.
I thought you were right.
So when I thought of it- it was wrong.
I thought of it in the wrong ways.
I made it wrong- when I thought of it.
Who can speak a true thought?
Words fail me.
Even if it was right, I thought of it wrong.
Because you said it was wrong.
Because I didn't know how it could be right.
It was wrong because I made it wrong because I didn't know that it could be right.
We made sin from nothing.
Because we don't know how to do the thing in good- we deem it evil.
We do it in evil.
What we could have as good we make evil- and we do not do it.
'He who does not do good- to him it is sin.'
How can I say you make the deed evil?
When you do not do it yourself?
How can I say you make evil?
That you make good- evil?
And evil - good?
How can I accuse you of evil you haven't done?
What words can I say?
The Silence Prison.

I want to scream.
I feel trapped.
I run- but it's me I run from.
I can go nowhere.
I feel trapped.
You say I need to flee.
But from what?
It's me you want me to flee from.
You don't see.
It's easy for you to say.
You're not trapped.
Having to run- from yourself.
I want to run from you.
How can I explain to you?
How can I tell you of me?
I am me.
What can I say?
The Silence Prison.

I want to do good- not evil.
But you say to be is evil.
How can anything cease to be?
If I am, how can I cease to be?
I don't want to be- but I am.
Dear God, help me.
I don't want to be away from You.
Who can understand the things that are and are not?
Who can speak of them?
I can't.
The Silence Prison.

Describe to me the beauty of a sunset.
What words can show light?
What sounds of the mouth can thrill the heart?
Like the light and the beauty of a day's end?
I can't.
Neither can my brush.
Neither can my paints or my canvas.
But there is joy in painting.
There is happiness in a brush-stroke.
A picture can speak a thousand words.
But never a thousand words a picture.
So - though art is a joy and beautiful- art fails me.
Much more do words fail me.
The silence Prison.

I can't sleep.
My room is quiet.
The lights are out.
The painted stars on my ceiling glow gently.
But I can't sleep.
Why?- I don't know.
I check the clock.
I count the hours I haven't slept.
Sometimes I sleep- but not always.
Sometimes I dream- deep and colorful.
Sweet. Restful. Inspiring.
Yet more often i'm awake in the dark.
Even when my eyes are closed- I can't rest.
Sleep without rest.
I can feel the room around me.
The wrinkles of the sheets.
I can hear my self breathe.
I can almost hear the goaning of concrete.
I can't sleep.
Even hard work isn't a promise I will.
No rest for the weary.
Why?- I don't know.
You may think I'm lazy.
I am at times- I know I am.
But you don't see.
There's no rest- not for me.
You who sleep- can you imagine?
Can you see what life without rest is?
Night after night?
Rest is a jewel I hunt for.
It's hard to find- leaving me poor.
You are rich and you don't see.
How can I tell you of what you don't lack?
Of what you have never seen?
What words can I give you?
The Silence Prison.

I'm so lonely.
My loneliness is my loneliness.
If any could understand- I wouldn't be lonely.
So long as I am lonely-you don't understand.
How can I be so lonely?
When there are so many around me?
Like a hail-stone in the sea- I am lonely.
Dear God, I'm so lonely.
It feels like it's just You and me, Lord.
I know I'm not alone with You- but I feel lonely.
You understand me, Lord- so I am not alone.
But i don't understand You- so I feel lonely.
Dear Lord, free me from loneliness.
Who can speak the absence of understanding?
If I could then I wouldn't be so lonely.
The Silence Prison.

My words are my prison.
Their inadiquicy a lock on my lips.
What can I say?
The Silence Prison.


---Exleston.