Even though Silence, in essence, is one,
It encompasses many degrees

It all begins with the silence of discomfort,
When the very first holes widen their outer limits
In the floorboard of words.
Under our feet
Appears a world of questions.

Holes trigger fear…we fill them up again
With any old plank we can lay our hands on.
Others slow down the pace and, as they walk,
Encounter mindfulness.

Time is at work and enlarges holes
Opening the field on the matrix.

A few floorboard stains remain visible
And a whole universe is calling out.

There it is time for the silence of peace
Where all noises of the world have matured
Into a distant background babble.

Then a forecasting silence, offering a glimpse on the truth
When the last rounds of winds swirling from the mountains of inner scenarios,

Find no projector light to be shown.

And the eternal silence of obscurity,
Offshore, in the deep
As far as ears can hear.

Franck Joseph
©FJ Dec. 2020 – All rights reserved.
Articles are available in book and e-book formats here :RECUEILS/ Books
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