Serenade

Quetitude.
Absolute serenade of the inside.

While the riots of
The outside blaze out
Like the sun of the summer –
I lie.
I lie down on the floor
In a quest of tranquility
Freed from the diatribe
And the hustle of everything
Above the ground.

I cry.
I rinse my eyes
Of the sadness they harbor.
And
I brew a relief from
The lines of my words
I trace on paper.