THE NOISE of life, the constant sound, My mind goes there and round and round. The world is here before your face. A mindless aimless empty race. A deafness deadens deeper sighs. A heart in pain unheard it cries. We close our ears by seeking noise, And choke the life of inner joys. Stand still. Stand still and hear the pain. Hear your heart weep once again. Listen, listen, within the deep. A warmth, a fire, the heart does keep. Buried beneath those constant tears, The heart knew love before its fears. Love is quiet, but love is there. And love remains. And love is bare. © Patrick A. Rose, June 17, 2015.