Silent and still
my father stands
before our summer shelter
He is thinking a prayer
to the Holy Ones,
asking them
this day
to keep our feet
on the trail of beauty.
Filling the silence
of my father's prayer
I hear the bluebird's song.
Our being is silent, but our existence is noisy. Yet when our noisy actions stop, there is a ground of silence always there. Contemplatives must be in contact with that ground and communicate from that level to keep silence alive for other people.