in a forest of colossal pillars,
rashed red by the couplings
of heaven and earth.
a romantic forseeks his hiding
in a play of immaculate spaces.
quiver to the quill of his ***,
secret turn to the axis of his eye.
beauty its pluck and gouge--
rollicking proportions cut
quicker than light through glass.
the pop, crush and night of
grapes concentrated for his
drunkenness alone.
assaying tongue cup to opulent
cup, face slack and lax in uprise--
proud of its sudden pantheon!
fast awake as his own exhibit.

i listen intently to the silence. I know it's telling me something. the silence surrounds me, covers me, at once serves to calm and stifle me.
for in the silence is steadiness.
and though i hope for steadiness, it is so unknown that it frightens me. so i don't tune in to silence often.
silence is the flat line on the heart monitor. The lone tree in an empty field. The small twinkling star in the black sky. The empty chair on the lawn.
when i do finally listen, the silence tells me that strength and power is in what an individual IS, more than what it does.
for silence is the world in a state of being. It's the cessation of all distractions and business that we involve ourselves in the effort to become. The silence tells me, breathe slow.
You already are.