True Silence?

(A poem: In work. Apologies for its rough edges and a few badly balanced rhymes and metres.)

Tell me. What is true silence?
The moment where the noise dies down?
No, true silence is different,
It cannot be donned like a gown.
-
It is more than just the absence,
Of assault on your ears.
It’s more than just the sudden hush,
As silence hits your peers.
-
A moment where you’re deafened,
Or there simply is nothing to hear.
It’s not a calming moment.
It inspires pure fear.
-
There is no breath, no heartbeat, no bloodrushing to ears,
Just a pure note of nothing at all.
And as you encounter this absolute nothing,
It’s as if your breath did stall.
-
Grasp at your throat, you can feel it move,
But there’s not a sound to hear.
No whistling of lungs, nor sound as you talk,
You can almost feel death so near.
-
Then, it is all over, the silence gone at last.
The soft and welcome sounds of your breath rushing through.
And then the blood rush slows, as it was quite fast.
And you realise, the truth, who know silence are but a few.