Silence

Nothing to say.
Not yet empty.
Merely silent.

No need for torrential outporing, no need for release.
The questions have abated and now, there is only silence to listen to.
For silence sings sweetly for those who listen, for those that hear what is neither here nor there, nor theirs to hear at all.
Silence speaks volumes without speaking at all, and is clearer in her lack of words than poets are with their abundance of them. Her simplicity speaks for itself, while language twists and turns, hiding from truth while trying to define it.
Silence is shattered with but a whisper, and lost with a sigh, but she never strays too far. She stays above and below all that passes between.
She knows the deepest secrets of forgotten tombs, and may stray where nothing ever lived or died. She has been in all places and all times, and has witnessed many lifetimes worth of fear and folly, eternities of love and loathing, has born witness to every feeling never given a voice.

But silence keeps her secrets.