.
Silence is a distillate of noise.
Beneath the traffic hum and whoosh a tiny
Island of quiet is deposited
An oasis of reflection leached out
Of a symphony of power saws
The mechanical tools of human convenience.
Whereas:
In the universe of glass I dream
(Which is actually made of icy words)
The glass boat that floats in
A glass pool to the musical
Silence of a glass étude…
Is absolutely unheard.
Cobalt blue sea glass bottle top: photo by Swampyank, 2009
Libyan Desert Glass (impact glass found in Great Sand Sea): photo by H. Raab, 2006
5 comments:
Silence is a distillate of noise.
This left me absolutely speechless. Yes. What a way to start a poem and then build up the way you did ! Beautiful. The second para reminds of a lot of things.
It is a delight reading you.
Thank you Aditya, and you know the feeling is mutual.
ahhh... what a mind you have!
silence... a condensation of noises... it reminds me of sufis' concept of nothingness...
loved sitting here picturing the images you built here... it was like a zen koan for me...
HB,
I love to think about the vast passages of time that can be read into the history of a shard of sea glass or desert glass, reminding me after a while of the making of souls...
souls... shards of glass... all used to be one... a whole that broke into pieces... creating the only dance there is... the journey toward the one...
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