There is the silence of air and space 
In which breathing is a momentous act 
And contemplation stretches like a long beach in the sun
Of limitless horizons

There is the muffled deadness which descends
like the padded ceiling of a too-small room 
left windowless to the imagination
which can no longer sing

This is a desperate desert pilgrimage
No stones mark the exit from the valley
Where music is dumb and words fall limp
From the trees: will we ever touch meaning again?

When freedom comes, will we be capable
Of walking out to face beyond ourselves
The sun that burns and dazzles the presumption 
And the poverty of all we thought we knew 

Listen as harmony and dissonance
Converse and rampage in our souls 
Play havoc with our ritual comfort certainties
And call us to the terror of new freedoms 

Or will we turn away and stumble blind
Among the ruins of our childhood building blocks
Forever numb, imagining we can contain
The voice of silence

One thought on “THE VOICE OF SILENCE

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