It’s quiet here. Above, the sun comes and goes More going than coming Behind stubborn clouds. Below is small but grinding With a today of Abuse and addiction Suffering and slavery In our own town, in our own people. But it’s quiet here, Here in my heart: A mountain reaching up from a dark sea To that sun swallowed by haze. In a world gone mad We long We laugh But we live following. Because behind a cloud The sun is quiet like the moon, Searchable, findable.