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