Shadows

Shadows, meaningless as shadows can be
Pass through the realm of my calm repose
Seeking no harm, pain, or injury
Yet disturb the objects within my trove

How peaceful the morning air when one wakes alone
Instead of the rumble of society
Why bother pretend to listen, silent as a stone,
While my family enjoys this cacophony?

There is a rare thing, a beauty, in silence
That which the beholder can only perceive
Once he closes his eyes in indifference
And listens, magically, while nature grieves