Silence, she calls us, quiet as a mouse, but she calls
Though sometimes we pretend not to hear and imagine words and noise more crucial
Our rituals of distraction, carefully observed, make sure the noise never stops, they resist her calls
And she is terrifying, there’s no question, some say an abyss, though gorgeous too, with such capacity, quite fathomless
This silent space, with no agenda but ours, no narrative but ours; where all can be dissolved and all re-clothed
If only we stay
She welcomes us in, brushes us down, and if only we can not look back, but enter her home, put space between our thoughts, settle at her fire
All can be dissolved and all re-clothed
