Quiet

We drift. Drift in the sea. Not one of water or wine but one of silence. Floating in and out of murmured waves and echoed tides. The mind does not wander or search, nor does it quest. It strolls on these soundless thoughts content and releasing all poisens deep down in to the dark depths of the noise beniethe us. There, they drown. But up here we're eternal and silent. There is no crash as the water slumbers, just whispers. Whispers so gentle they lull us to sleep only to dream of being awake in troubled reality...