9

The vault of silence, strongest keep,

A secret locked in slumber deep.

No breath to stir, no tongue to tell,

Between the soul and silent shell

Of God above, a whispered plea,

Just He and I, eternally.

I know the heart, how it desires,

To trust, to leap across the fires

Of doubt and fear, to find a hand,

A listening ear in shifting sand.

But truth, a bitter draught to taste,

Reveals the flaws, the hurried haste

With which we judge, with which we fall,

Imperfect sinners, one and all.

I trust in you to be yourself,

With all your light, on secret shelf.

No expectation, heavy chain,

To bind your spirit, ease my pain.

For secrets whispered, seeds they sow,

And in the fertile gossip grow.

So I withhold, a conscious choice,

To keep my inner, fragile voice

From echoing in halls unknown,

A seed I plant, and tend alone.

I tell you nothing, not to wound,

But in the silence, peace is found.