A Vision Of Music

In Memoriam: Horatio Radulescu Each day makes its way back silence. And we make a parallel journey. It is the same imperative that reaches closure. In silence, feelings aleep, thoughts withdraw into depths where they coil themselves and wait for the moment to ascend. Meantime, silence fills all available space, and time keeps strict measures. I could write a poem but that activity must also wait its turn. I want to sink. I want to be embedded in soul's soil, to be immersed in the incomparable wealth of primal growth. I am neither hope nor fear at these depths. Rather I witness an original unity. I can hear rainwater part walls of dirt, as it slips downward to become earth. Such images are a synesthesia that takes us across the threshold, and we greet the others, also just arrived. We behold - nothing. We are the silence.