I learned to be silent, to be alone when the pain takes my breath away. When I want to scream without shouting, but for the world, to hear me, to hear me... it tears my heart. How I die, I die now, without your love, without your caress, how quiet sadness overwhelms me and silently pushes me to the abyss. When the raindrops, tired, stop in my eyes, When my soul, dead, rises at every rinsing of a bird lost in the dark, and hope, this false hope, touches me with meek anticipation, Then I understand that you will not come. Wrapped in the black cloak of the night, you sink invisible, speechless, secretive, but I, I have learned to be silent…. and wait.
# To Be Silent To be silent is to hear the whisper of dust settling, the slow conversation of stones. To be silent is to understand that words are merely the shadows of things, and shadows lie. To be silent is to wait in the dark room of the self, where no visitor comes, where no mirror reflects the face we've learned to wear. To be silent is to let go of the need to explain, to justify, to convince— that small tyranny we exercise upon the air. To be silent is to discover that emptiness is not absence but presence of another kind: the presence of listening, the presence of becoming. To be silent is to die a little each day, and be reborn in the space between heartbeats, in the pause before speech, in the question we never ask.
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