Beneath the intricate network of noise
there's a still more persistent tapestry
woven of whispers, murmurs and chants
It's the heaving breath of the very earth
carrying along the prayer of all things:
trees, ants, stones, creeks and mountains alike
All giving silent thanks and remembrance
each moment, as a tug on a rosary bead
while we hurry past, heedless of the mysteries
And, yet, every secret wants to be told
every shy creature to approach and trust us
if we patiently listen, with all our senses.
We are all joined in the holiness of the mind that God created. I therefore never consider myself alone in the silence. I'm 90 and live alone in a four room house surrounded by open space. I have no T and have always luxuriated in silence. The exterior silence is here. The i8nterior silence is a work in progress.