Most of us cling to noise because we simply don't know what to do with silence. Of all the things we know, silence can be the most deafening, the most crippling. Because it's under its delicate candor that we find ourselves face to face with our thoughts, and no noise to muffle their nagging. In truth, the chaos inside a man can be louder than any weapon of war to ever touch his ears, more terrifying than any danger to ever meet his eyes. Alone is an island many men fear most.
It's where you fight your darkest demons, face your deepest fears and come to grips with all the things have or haven't done. If the mind was a prison, then sitting with it in silence is the crest of solitude, and there is no parole, no escape. Behind it's bars the mirror of self cannot lie, and its reflection either strengthens or drives one to madness. But it's there, somewhere in the solitude of silence that you truly find yourself. Where you learn to slay your demons, conquer all your fears and come to grips with everything you must do.
For every man's journey into solitude will again bring him back to the noise from which he came. But once he returns, HE is different. The noise is no longer a place for him to hide but a symphony for him to conduct. Every bleeding string of disarray in the world around him can now only be heard as an instrument on which to play a more beautiful song. Through solitude he finds purpose and through purpose he cannot help but bring order to noise. For a man that has found himself is a master conductor of even the most terrible of chaos to ever cross his path.
