Silence

Silence, 

an arm so powerful and quite disturbing at last,

which thinks of lull times yet to come and elaborates images of what is no there. The difference lays in the past and the present, "the black and white" as I call it. 

For there has always been a past in which silence has opened the door to lustful lips and passionate touches or dropped tears that recall lost souls, 

painful goodbyes or vanished material love.

Silence,

don't we fear thee, whether it brings good or bad news, whether you perdure in the present or rejoice in the past. The truth and lies you hide and put to light, always change or reaffirm a suffering or a greatness damned to whom aught to listen, see or feel.

Silence,

in the need to find the unknown you awake the excitement of a life but not dare to lie because the present will always uncover your past, without shame. Notwithstanding knowing this truth will drag thou destiny to hell, your destiny to an end because your beginnings are powerful but not limitless.