Consider the generosity of silence,
how it holds the space between icicle drips,
how it meets squawk and howl
and laugh and sob with the same acceptance,
the same respect. How it asks nothing of the world
and yet is always there waiting
beneath the passing car, the passing thought.
I don’t want to live my life without knowing you,
silence, you the great loom on which all life is woven,
you the wisdom with nothing to say.
I want to invite you into all the rooms of my heart,
want to know the ways you permeate me,
how you inform every cell.
I want to find you inside every word, to know
in all my speech the silence that supports it.
I want to know you, silence, you who was here
before the big bang and you who continue to grow.
You who touch the seas and the barren rock,
the snow covered mountain, the meadow of mud,
who touched the first leaf and met the first cry,
who will touch the last leaf, who will meet
the last song. And go on.