Tick Tock

I can hear the clock tick. That seldom happens.
Usually drowned out by the laughter on TV or the endless beeping of the smartphone.

Hearing the clock tick is like tuning into your heartbeat.
Attention to something that was there all along.
You just forgot it was there.

I can hear the sweeper's broom outside. "Swish....swish....swish..."
No passing car to bully these sounds.
If a pin dropped, it would not escape my notice.
Perhaps this silence means something?
Probably giving way to elements of life we normally walk past without thinking.

The body is in silence. And still. Any movement takes a mammoth effort.
With a whirlwind within, that's all it can do to contain it.
Feelings, emotions, dreams, disappointments, memories - all on a rollercoaster ride.
All held together at the crux by something so powerful, it will take all my armed forces to de-throne it.

This is the silence before the storm.
The inactivity before exhaustive action.
The rest before war.

And as the soldiers cry out for battle and the arrow stands ready for release,
I sit.
Listening to the ticking of the clock.