The song is not born,
until the silence ends.
But silence still abides,
and permeates the singing
with pause,
the song's most treasured measure,
the caster of a form
that seldom is performed.
Pay heed,
the silence says,
pay heed to me,
I'm that your ears strain to hear.
No vistas are as clear
as mine.
He who takes his song to water,
is wise. The breakers push and roar,
and silence is what craving has become,
like the opening of a door
on nothing:
silent hills of sound,
pictures of (whose?) wedding,
the laying out of the timid bride.
Look hear,
something is returned
in larger change than we are apt to handle.
Enwrapped in the encoding silence, thrills
are downed, towers unbuilt,
the architecture stilts, the spaces,
are uplifted.
And the silence spawning pause
sings.
8 апреля 2017 г.
The silence and the song
© Copyright: Андрей Тюков, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117040810128
Свидетельство о публикации №117040810128
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