Editor’s Choice
Loud is the drum that echoes inside the empty hall,
A restless plea acclaim where hollow shadows fall.
He sings off-key to drown unease, unable to name
Then turns every quiet moment into a noisy game.
Why burn the garden merely to root out one weed,
Also why feed the grand display, the vanity or need?
Let our quiet dignity stand firm as our inner shield –
In staying calm, true and linked, with no need to yield.
The noise may seek an audience but silence needs none,
The deepest strength is often quiet while it has won.
Let him exhaust his echoes against the walls he made –
A calm and steady heart need never join the charade.
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