Stillness

Stillness

This room, dirty windows and
pale squares
were pictures hung,
has no furniture,
dust on floorboards
dance to a tune unheard by man;
the beauty here is that of
eternal nothingness,
the essence of happiness is less,
yet many fill their
space with futile objects
because they can’t bear
the intrusive silence of bareness.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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