Borrowed silence poem

Sitting in borrowed silence,
I try to observe the empty space my breath is supposed to create.
I hear the sounds around me and bring my mind back to where I am,
focusing on my body and somehow getting lost in my mind.
I don’t have to think about this now–
a relief, except for the things I want to think about.
In a moment I pull away and experience the nothingness,
but only for a moment.
I am wasting this time of quiet,
the only time I can let go and just be,
the only time I set aside specifically not to waste.
Every morning, I sit and misuse this fragile silence I can never keep.

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