Inside every heart is a moment of silence
That is the actual beat: Without that pause
That space - that's how we measure because
the tempo is the wait between the tense
This silence, rising falling, spreading, waiting
Consider this: The world of the birds is larger
Than ours, the world of the whales is larger
For where we can only reach the wainscotting
They can breach above, below, follow tides
or winds until the whole world that is a home
is larger and wider and deeper than all of Rome
And the music that they make from where they hide
Connects all the kingdoms of the earth and we
call it silence. We call it empty skies, empty seas
No comments:
Post a Comment