There is a place so silent,
It's location cannot be learnt.
Deep within your heart you may find,
An expanse of hush of no other kind.
Round, round your heart it squeezes,
Stretching your forehead creases.
It is the dead air of your breaking soul,
The iron curtain for your mind's treasure bowl.
Privy to one being is quiescence.
A galaxy of numbed sense.
Once found, your eternal haven it stays.
Forever open to you alone it lays.