Silence.

Suddenly there is a lull all around.
The incoherent medley of incongruous voices
that had reached a crescendo,
not very long ago,
has now died down.
Voices inebriated with happiness
voices drunk in despair
voices of men and women
and their tedious complaining drawls,
voices of the sky and wind,
dry leaves and ripples in water
have suddenly been hushed
by the movement of a withered nervous hand.

Now it is raining.
Silently.

I stand alone
at the far end of the universe
waiting to hear my decayed voice
and the beating of my heart
to know that I live,
that I still live.