Emptiness in the air
Voices whisper in the invisible visibility of daylight
A crowd of formless spirits screaming at one’s ear
Each entity in a frenzied rush to convey its own message
Like a torrid marketplace of noiseless commotion
Is the silent pregnancy of thought
It is when the inner voices are at their loudest, most obnoxious
Tell tale vagabonds unaware of how to keep a secret
Unwelcome intruders, uncouth in the fine art of sublimation
Such are the whispering nothings of solitude.