Silenci

When it happened, a shopping bag got stuck in midswing carried by a frozen shopper and birds in the sky just stayed where they were.
When it happened, the lifeguard was off duty and some souls got lost at sea.
When it happened, the sky painter was caught framing the last piece of a sky that always hated the frame.
When it happened, the striking sunlight noticed the unnoticed.
When it happened, she was combing away all the love you no longer wanted, braiding her sorrow spiraled by a stairway of memories.
When it happened the world in a roar stood still in front of the mirror and remembered that he couldn’t see himself and that his role was limited to be the one who looks in the mirror.
It happened: Silence|ˈsīləns|, the complete absence of sound.

It wasn’t the silence where the flora and fauna grow.
It wasn’t the silence where the sun, moon and stars move.
It wasn’t the silence where the squirrel’s heart beats.
It wasn’t the silence on which music lays.
It wasn’t the silence where great souls suffer.

What exactly was that silence?
It felt so shrill to my ears, so perfect, so accurate. It wasn’t a religious silence, or the gap between words, nor the crack between the music notes but something that sounded more like when you find yourself close to reality.
It was the silence mother of truth wore.

It murmured:
You can keep on wishing for big things. Things that are ambitious, out of reach so you won’t have to worry to accomplish them one day.
You can keep on loving the pain because it makes you feel real and so good when it stops.
You can keep on holding guns so softly like you were holding a white dove.
You can keep that vest with an "S" on your chest and pretend you can fly from the highest swing.
But you can’t pretend that I am not here, in the background minding your every step, following your every move, watching you.
You should learn to get in touch with me, the silence within yourself.

I answered:
I can't, and I can't decide, my wrong from right, my day from night, my dark from light, so how get in touch with muteness.

It whispered:
Always remember that without listening speaking no longer heals, that without distance closeness cannot cure, that without silence words lose their meaning. Don’t you turn your back on silence.
Silence is so accurate.
Silence is sometimes the severest criticism.
Silence is the most perfect expression of scorn.
Silence is the sleep that nourishes wisdom.
Silence is the ultimate weapon of power.
Silence, the essence of life, of contemplation and meditation.
Slowly, gently, night will unfurl its splendor.
Grasp it, sense it
Slowly, gently, night will unfurl its splendor.
Grasp it, sense it.
Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light:
Listen to the music of the night in you.

SN