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The Quiet is ancient.
It can not be broken
Until the careless and bumping things
The noisy words of the people's mouths
Come in
And the room is filled with cacophony sound
Of one hundred voices, all saying nothing
The Quiet is broken.
It can not be mended
Until the careless and bumping things
The noisy words of the people's mouths
Are stopped.
As the room is filled by the entrancing chant
Of the flautist vibrating and resonant tube
The Quiet is floating.
It drifts on the silence
Until the careless and bumping things
The noisy words of the people's mouths
Erupt.
With applause and a cheer for the artist's performance
Of a tune that captivated the audience
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