Silent Echoes

Thy tongue waggeth like a cursed bell and dawn.
Uttering nonsense with every breath,


Must thou speak without pause?
Without mercy?
Without thought?
Does thy jaw not tire from such relentless flapping?

Silence, O master of yapping.
I have endured storms, dragons, and taxes.
Aye, even my uncles flute stays quiet during family feasts.
Yet none test my patience so fiercely as thee.
I am sick of it.


By the heavens above and the crumbs in my beard,
Isay onto thee with righteous fury and dramatic flair
HOLD THY PEACE!

Nay not just a whisper or a hush–
but silence so deep the gods themselves lean in.
Let thy lips be sealed as if by spell.
LET THINE OWN THOUGHTS ECHO BACK AND SAY I TALK TOO MUCH!



For if thou utterest but one more sound,
I swear by the sacred spoon of Saint Jerome,
I shall summon silence itself and stuff it down thy throat with love.