Silence

I never knew that silence could be loud…
I never knew that it could speak…
I never knew it felt so good…

It was still very early and a gentle rain fell, clung to the thickening buds on the trees and began to lie in the dips of the pavement I was walking.

There was a sun rising above the grey and there the grey would be pinks and vibrant reds. The tarmac under my feet was grey too and patchy and I thought that deep beneath the grey that had been boiling tar and steamy, laid and rollered from man’s dream lay the soft earth and then the rock, glowing crystal and the molten centre of our earth, pulsing, living. I saw a meadow underneath the tarmac, lush where once a gentle rain had fallen as it did today, where buttercups had grown and a mole had lived and dug his tunnels, where butterflies had dried their wings in the sun after the rain.

I sat, quiet when I was home again and listened to the rain falling on the roof, heard it running and gurgling like a distant brook. Crows called in the distance, a robin sang its plaintive song. The wind changed its tune when it touched my window and my soul became one with the wind and the bird and the rain and the earth. There was silence and I was happy in it.

I know now just how good it feels…
I know now how it talks…
I know now how to listen…

and


…to…
…be…
…the…
…silence…