This morning I set out from my house in Ilford to catch the bus into town which my handy smartphone app predicted would arrive at 05:02. Once in Ilford I caught the 123 and got off at Wood Green, North London I wrote my thoughts down in my journal whilst on the bus and have used them to compose the following poem.
Tell me what silence is
As brief as the morn without a sound
That as our journeys progress
The universe makes its mission
To rip through
The silence as we think it
With a concoction of sounds from every direction.
The trundle of the bus
On its fixed rigid route
Through the semi-desolate streets.
Breaking through the cold atmosphere
Which earlier took its break from usual narcissistic brutality
But now of its presence we can be aware
Contributing to the sounds
We must be subjected to
By rule
By expectation
And by reminder that we know not what silence truly is.
