There is a softness to silence
like the edges of water meeting air
when you find it
you slip in
cool lakes of stillness
Silence is a wall when you hit it hard
like ice punching your stomach
when you land wrong off the high dive
and sink
rising bubbles
thoughts
tickle up your lips and rise into fields of lower pressure
In the space
where the cool rush of blood pounds the drum
like rock slides or avalanches that turn as the seasons do
to feel is a comfort from the still
as a touch seems something from nothing
such fire
such desire
is not captured
in any reality