Silence Is

Every day we’re given has a definite purpose; a twenty-four hour chunk of time that’s irretrievable once past, so it’s a time in which you can advance as you see fit or get left behind and trampled underfoot by the thundering herd, who are, for the most part, running amok without a smidgen of purpose or flat out give a shit.
Even though there are some out there in this modern age who would take issue with this, spending a day under a shady tree, watching clouds floating overhead is far from a waste of time. And for those who think otherwise, I say, “You’ve lost the fucking plot.”
My yesterday was one of those days where I purposely left the world and all of its bohunk twaddle behind. A retreat, if you will, from the stampede of little lemming feet. An inside my skin day. A look in the mirror. A seeking of balance. A temperature of the heart. A conditioning of the soul. A cleansing, as it were.
And I wallowed all up in it but good.
In silence I find the voice of God. In silence I hear the water, the creatures, the trees, the wind. I smell the melodies they conjure. I tune in, I go clear, feeling the Earth as it is, as it was intended, slackjawed, dumbstruck, bathed in ageless serenity, insight, and concert. One day I’m gonna start fucking glowing and disappear into the silence, leaving this place far behind, never to return, a burnt spot on the ground where I once sat.
Silence is full of the primordial jizz of life. Lose it at your own peril
Even Franki Valli and the Four Seasons sang, “Silence is golden, golden.”
Silence is cool. Silence is sexy.
Silence spawns everything. From that empty canvas the whole kit ’n caboodle comes alive, sez I. Therefore, it is.
Yesterday I succumbed to the silence. It made all the difference.