Between the Silences


I had never noticed the unique sound of silence
until I sat of the side of purple mountains
drinking stillness.
To move, to even breathe,
was to be in fear of shattering perfection.
We spoke in hushed tones of family and friends,
and though our conversation was deep,
contemplative and full of ideas,
we were drawn back inexplicably by the siren call of silence,
crooning to us from its nest behind the sun.
We were infinitely minuscule,
perched on the edge of vast expanses,
swallowed by the roar.
Great and yet delicate,
I yearned to unravel the mysteries it whispered for my ears alone.
The silence stretches on forever,
beyond the mountains, the valleys, the ocean.
Beyond the horizon to distant lands I could not begin to dream about.
It has existed since the dawn of time,
it will live long after this mountain had forgotten my very name.
It eats the stars and drinks the seas,
it swims through the waters of the universe,
and bathes in the wild rains.
Yet impossibly here we sit,
sheltered by its vast, sweet shadow,
standing in the spaces between the silences.

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