Silencing the Self

As I go silencing the self, 

At first I hear cries of defeat, 

As if drowning trying to delve,

Into deep wells soaked in conceit. 

Then from deeper trenches echo, 

Whims that dare not come out of chains, 

Restrained too tightly to let go, 

Even though dampened by the rains. 

After those dry fiery winds rage, 

In silent storm born from roaring calm, 

And blow passion out of its cage, 

In the soul no longer scared of harm. 

Good to go silencing the self, 

And embrace the woes of defeat, 

To dig through hushed rhymeless pits, 

And unearth the sounds of great feat.