Silence is where I live,

A loneliness, a liberty.

Nothing that I contrive.

A modesty.

Not what I seek, but save,

In that contrary country,

Gives me the good I have,

An ease, an entry

To nothingness and no one.

Native there, a necessity

I wonder mildly much on,

I find rarity.

One right is wholly mine

In silence. An economy.

And one care. To return

To sincerity.