Beats of silence

There's a silence in here

And I hear it.

It's the silence of my soul;

Looking back at me

With empty eyes

And a deep contempt.

The silence comes from the backyard 

Where the broken cliff yet stands tall

I breathe, and I listen

To the many sounds of the night.

Maybe it's indeed the 'white noise',

The one that appears in literature 

And feeds many like me;

Or maybe it's something else

And I'm left to wonder

How silence is a superposition 

Of myriad random events

Passing by, with a hint of existence.