Wisps of sound rise and melt in the air,
The high and low stresses, the articulatory stretches;
Linger, vanish, manifest, proliferate – digest.

A humming note strokes the whims of a heart,
Through tapestries of tingling blade of tongue,
It slides into existence and existence it wears till it obliterates.

Wisps of sound rise and melt in the air,
Like Chinese ring daggers they curl into
the abode of your consciousness again.

A mellifluous phrase carries the calm of Ravi
as it glides through the hollows of ears,
Now in your memory, now forgotten,
Now revived, now devised,
Now it journeys towards the ripples of your utterance,
And now it fiddles with your own conscience.

A wisp of sound falls over the skyline of a tongue
It transforms into a soulful voice,
And arbitrarily makes sense!

Silence is quite unusual, really.

Because Sound is always there.
It ticks away in the background like a friendly face in a classroom on that first day at a new school; someone to greet you and wash any and all fears from the very depths of  your soul, bringing with it that ever-welcomed sense of reassurance, that everything really will be okay

The gentle sigh of inhalation.

Sound is always there.
Even in the darkest days when nothing is going right and all you want to do is curl up in a ball and cry; your ever-familiar friend will guide you into tasting the salty tears which glide seamlessly and endlessly down your cheek until suddenly they’re not and you can hear your breathing and see a glimmer of hope in the sky but you can hear your breathing and you know that you’re not alone, you’re never alone, you were never alone and after everything that has happened you finally stop and take a deep breath and think that everything really will be okay

The steady plod of a heartbeat.

Sound is always there.
It passes by, day in and day out, as reliable as the chirping of birds raising you from the depths of sleep on the first day off you’ve had in months; outwardly you curse and you groan but on the inside you don't care because you're happy and you're safe and you've got a comfortable bed and a warm home and people who love you and it is in these moments that you are really are finally sure that everything really will be okay

The careless whisper of exhalation.

Sound is always there.
Apart from when it’s not and you are left alone and scared and in the dark and there’s nothing that you can do; nothing that anyone can do and suddenly everything stops and you feel the crushing pain dominate your entire being and it is painful yet strangely relaxing yet you just want it all to stop and carry on and stop and you don't know what you want, what you should want, all you want is somebody to reassure you that everything really will be okay but you know that it won’t; you won’t; you won’t be okay ever again but all you want is your familiar friend to come back and reassure you but they won’t because they're gone now and they've just left you alone with the silence that they've always protected you from, kidding you that everything really will be okay

But it won’t.

You know it won’t.

It really is true that silence is that deafening.

Words
pushing against my chest
longing to get heard,
trying to fit into my heart

Words that I have so carefully
not let in
That I have so intentionally
left outside,
not giving space for them to be spoken

It's just stupid, isn't it?
How they always catch up on you
Whether it's through a sound,
a stroke or simply through a word
How they always stay, no matter how unwanted they are
They always stay

just like you.

our hearts keep beating
as long as they can

that's the sound of life

Close your eyes
and listen to the sound
of eternity circling you

it dances in swirling steps
in rhythm you can feel
with fingertips outstretched

when you stop a moment
it will always find you again
if you want to befriend reality.

if you don't, that's okay,
it'll wait forever for you.