a call to words

in silence I wonder, in quiet I pine
with a clang I blunder, step out of line
the noise of my actions is deafeningly clear
the silence of my soul gapes like a tear
in the back seat of an old sedan

come forward then, quiet thoughts
come forward then, whether or not
you want to be seen or known or heard
regardless if you are lucid, sane or absurd
or outlandishly wild or pedestrian

out in the clear, hearts will mend
out in the open, distress will end
its battle, which rages unseen there inside
the covers of an unread book. There thoughts collide,
resolve, coalesce and come to fruition.