You probably think I'm nuts saying the mountains, oceans, and the tree outside my window have no word for people like you and me, but if you look at them long enough, you begin to believe they know everything. They maintain that huge silence we think of as divine, peaceful, a silence that grows in the spring when you and me laugh, learn and grow up beside each other.
But sometimes, peace lives, or peace is birthed, or peace is sustained, in loud and noisy moments, or in breaking an uneasy or unwholesome silence. Somewhere, we know, that without silence, words would lose their meaning.
At times when you get tired of chasing everything, chasing everyone, running down the same old lines, and when you can see nothing else and want to disappear. When you lock yourself up in a little corner of your mind, without food for good thought. All you see is black. In restless sleeps and late night waterfalls, you walk alone. You are cold fusion in trial.
There's no more now. No more pain, no more guilt, no more sorrow. It's a relief really, the darkness, you old friend. It is pure, perfect, thoughtless, vision-less, without end, without borders, the infinite that we each carry within us. And while you bask in the glory of your misery, someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer....and everything collapses.
You're left stranded and bare, in the naked light, and the wind dies to less than a whisper and you can barely catch your breath because you're thrilled and terrified.
The sounds of silence, were broken because you still have stories to share, promises to keep, people to love and miles to go before you sleep.
There are patterns in chaos. There is hope in the hazy future.
