I never wrote until I knew
how still things were without my voice.
How many things weren’t being said.
How many things weren’t being seen.
I was silence in an unfilled space,
that light without which darkness sees.
I never missed you till I didn’t look,
and there you weren’t
setting silence free.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
I never wrote until I knew
how still things were without my voice.
How many things weren’t being said.
How many things weren’t being seen.
I was silence in an unfilled space,
that light without which darkness sees.
I never missed you till I didn’t look,
and there you weren’t
setting silence free.
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