What Was Said To Silence

Final Draft: 5/4/2024

“No.” He says. Then, “Listen:”
We all pause in conversation—
All suspecting something of perspective
(Maybe wisdom, even) from his lips and tongue.
”What it is…” He speaks slowly,
Concentrating on some point behind our vision,
Some experience or pain we know—
If we do know at all—by implication
And his eyes—so, somehow, surfaceless;
Bruised and broken to resilience;
Seductively unbearable in gaze,
Yet safe to yearn for look or glance from,
As one aches for the final revelation
From the thunder’s saying,
From a night sky,
From the sea.

“It isn’t half so simple.
Every one of us has seen
That spark of Love-made-possible-in-time,
And some of us have seized—
As others released—that bright moment.
All of us, though, still will fall from grace
As minutes, hours, fade to days,
As days to weeks, and…”

His lips open as to finish speaking:
Silence cracks above us like, when sleeping,
Thunder shuffles slowly into dream
Unwaking, but still stripping clean illusion—
Opening awareness to the thought
That what one’s mind perceives
Is surface only of a hidden truth.

All of us have sobered at the thought
That his thought birthed in us;
Some recognition inexpressible:
A thing that self will fear and hide and flee.
All know we will fall away—
In minutes, hours, days—from revelation;
Such self-knowledge saddens us.
Some eyes tear as others dart away
And everyone anticipates the loss
Of good and light and beauty briefly glimpsed;
But his are joyful.