FromNothingToSomeThiiiing

Most silence is golden, just holding the noise,
What tries, when we cry and destruction destroys,
Some silence is deafening, enveloping minds,
Statically static, with dust coated inside.

Not complete, but repeatedly, heatedly, still,
Consistently constant, and pleasant to feel,
With painstaking effort and effortless gain,
This silence, enormous, with echoed refrain.

The potential, of filling, consuming, the empty,
Space which tempts me, and wants me, it's simply,
A canvas, with no stress, just potential, it's craving,
Add kick drums, and snare cracks, and bass notes, it's breathing.