The rain patters against my shell.
A distant roar of thunder reverberates against my shield.
My breath rises and falls to the ebb and flow of my mind.
Another crash of waves on my shore.
The sea of chatter pulls away once more.
Don’t indulge the nagging, let it through – in by the front door, out by the back.
Don’t serve the whispers tea, let them be.
Falling back into the silence, dust settling around my sanctum.
Another breath. Rise. Fall. Ebb and flow.
An inner sanctuary, solely mine, accessible anytime.
Truths only understood during my brief moments in silence.
Drabble: 100 words
Picture: rihaij @ Pixabay