And all is still/
The silence like a weight that none can bear,
A world that hangs suspended from a hill,
The sound that’s left when thunder clears the air.
Oh, there was laughter rippling through your youth –
Amid the cries of torment, to be sure –
And grateful sighs at having found the truth
To be the very seed at your own core.
But, bit by bit, each echo died away
Until the world itself was struck quite dumb.
And, now, there’s really nothing more to say,
And that’s the end to which each wise one’s come.
Yet wisdom wasn’t that for which you aimed;
It’s, after all, the way that can’t be named.
Photo by Tamara Menzi on Unsplash
Stillness (2)
