Silence
SILENCE
There is a slice of darkness in silence and a slice of light’
It is a place, a wide field where you sit in your own company;
I mean, in the company of your fears, conscience, memories, will,
regrets, dreams, inventions, wit, trickery, devils, angels, your power, denial,
scourges, your narrative; your trembling hands in front of you, staring like
a message, empty, yet full of meaning; your face, expressionless, cold,
like a man who has died, your eyes, piercing, searching, shamelessly honest,
unmoving, like the eyes of God.
It is an ethereal dungeon sitting in the pit of your mind,
a place without shelter, without food, without warmth,
a place without luxury, comfort, without water, air or gravity.
a place hanging on nothingness, an eternal beatific shoal.
It is a place without rest or cover, a place of merciless mercies,
a place where you are bare without clothes and bent to the elements,
an unmoving place, this silence, without gates, where all in it, lay still.
The place of a thousand wise mirrors; this silence, this deathless silence;
this un-killable, un-surmountable boundless silence.
So you never go there.
You rather enthrone yourself, in all your might and glory
in your glittering city of shape-shifters, encamped around you,
hailing your supremacy and faultless grace, your perfection,
your divinely elected reign.
You are martyred there; they cling to you, awed by you, fascinated by you.
They are your hiding place from your harrowing aloneness; they tell you it
matters not what was written, is being written or will be written in your book
of revelation; they lay out for you, falseness, denial, and laden it in gold.
So, without ceasing, all silence is buried with music, with celebration, with conversation, with ecstasy, for not one block of space must be left without sound; Lest you hear that irresistible raven’s caw, lest you see the sickled man, lest you are drawn to the quietness to be in company of your many selves, lest you enter into the numbing void that is you; the place where you
cannot hide from who you are, who you have become, who you can become;
the place of infinite consciousness and interrogation;
the place where truth is your bondsman, master and savior.
No! Your life must become a throttling train that never stops,
Lest the faceless faces you forget come aboard to taunt and tempt you;
The faces you hoped to have perished by now, never again to resurface;
But in the quietness of absolute solitude, they are there waiting for youyour undeniable selves, each wearing the translucent garment of your soul.
