And in the orchestra of Withrow Park,
I’ve searched for meaning in the violins.
Within the strings I’ve held my breath,
within the breeze that tosses scarves
around. I’ve held my lungs closed tight
enough so only I can hear
not any sound of air or even
my own breath upon this life.
But here the night is slowly rent
and all the questions I have asked;
Is there meaning in this life?
Is there silence in a sound?
Bare themselves upon myself;
it’s you I think of in this place.
Beneath the trees and city lights
and question more and more and still,
But do not ask a stranger what
he fears the most, not even that.
But ask him all he’s ever loved,
and that will be a greater answer still.
Ben Paynter
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-walk-through-withrow-park-and-on/
