‘Smile mate’, He said it like it wasn’t ever my default.
Smiling used to weigh so much less. Now, to conjure, to bring it to surface, carries with it, too heavy an anchor of worldly – of wordy miseries.
Why then, would I smile with such a grim view of who I am? There isn’t a life jacket strong enough, to lift me out of the rip, of murky opinion of myself.
I can’t floss my teeth, purge my stomach, exfoliate my skin, enough to find it in me any more, and fake one more pearly white, when everything I do, is in absence of light.
Lethargic lips, squinted eyes, and teeth stained with what you’ve been chewing on, aren’t very photogenic.
If I hold my breath any longer,
this bloat of words will imprison me.
There’s nothing that chokes me more,
than needing to say something,
but knowing the recipient is both too
fragile of mind and of spirit, to accept it.
But,
someone decided to call that ‘considerate’.
I have two wives.
One is kind, loving and living.
We have children together.
Things are mostly well.
Beautiful, perhaps even poetic.
My other wife is silence.
I married her a long time ago.
There must have been something attractive about her,
because I still find myself sleeping with her more, thirty nine years later.
I wake with her, walk with her and even work with her.
She’s even taught me the art of waltzing in the shadows.
Of skirmishing in the cacophony of noise and eliminating with hitman precision anything that will affect our bond.
Silence after all is a shrill of a jealous spouse that wont let you look elsewhere.
Whilst I love the other wife more,
this wife has me hostage, ever seeking my attention.
People think I am a cheat, even if I address them with the utmost of attention,
I know, as they know, I am distracted.
How can I not be,
when all I have to do is step back from the window,
to realise I was peaking through bars, imagining freedom.
The blinders are proximity.
Intimacy with your thoughts,
can eventually imprison you,
the freedom you think you possess,
is more that freedom possesses you,
holds you hostage in your own mind.
W.E.
This is what silence sounds like, when she is content.
the realisation of all realities,
submergence in non-matter
the destination,
dust of annihilation’s scatter
W.E.
Gratitude can only be shown through action.
I tip toe towards my ultimate gratitude,
that is having nothing left to say,
no more questions, no more noise, no more vibrations.
There will be no more confusion,
as everything will just be,
and I’ll go from being,
to becoming,
to vanishing.
It all just is,
there is nothing nihilistic about it,
I’m ever the optimist in it’s lather,
where it all at once, does and does not matter.
Everything has a soul,
And the soul of silence is knowledge,
Yet watch the oblivious toll,
Noisy chains in ignorance’s bondage.
So I severed my chains, long ago, By searching for men and women of the inner, As time has passed, I’ve come to know, The more I learned, silence showed me, I’m a beginner. -W.E
“The more I learned, the more ignorant I became” – Imam Al Shafi’i
When they wont have any of it, When your screams fall on deaf ears, When your soul is too heavy for them to carry, Step back and lighten their load, lighten yours, Soften your voice, And whisper. They’ll draw near, They’ll beg to hear, Your silent softness, Will be music to their ears. -W.E.
The most beautiful silence I ever heard Was being still and bereft of words.
Be silent, still and wordless. Even in your mind, the dyslexia of words must manifest until the confusion is too much to engage in and you become numb.
In that numbness, any sign of life will bring forth a new meaning, a new appreciation. The taste may be familiar as you ravage through the draws of your soul looking for that passed down relic of yourself you left behind in your childhood, that separation point in time where souls vanish and beasts manifest.
The beast that has now become defined as the adult. A word which bares no meaning used to describe what was once understood to be a person of refinement, but now responsive only to bodily fetishes, void of spiritual flight, emotional containment and mental acuity.
Induce those moments of silence, stillness and wordless-ness until they become your way and you reinvigorate that adult.
Come, Let the silence descend upon us It’s the loudest I can be And if you still can’t hear I’ll whisper in your ear Until you leave this world with me
-W.E.
When it all becomes too much to listen to, you need a voice that will be louder than anything your ears can handle. You’ll need it to hit the frequency of piercing silence that subdues you into submission, that leaves you with your guard down willingly accepting the blows of fate that will accompany you for the rest of the journey. Embrace the predestination of silence that awaits us in front of the King whilst you still can, before it is made your default and your intention cannot be recorded.
The Silence of things unspoken, Is that we’re all a little broken,
It’s the things he didn’t say that cut through the silence, Quiet was his art, quiet was his science,
Loud were the things unsaid,
Even in the distance, immense. -W.E.
Sometimes, that’s all it takes,
To chew at societies heart,
To gather their thoughts like Autumns rake.
Sometimes, words cannot make,
What love you have to give,
Fragments of your soul to flake.
My silence deafens you. It hit’s your ears so hard it causes perpetual ringing, so you justify your discomfort by telling yourself that it’s because of me, my silence.
Strange how silence now becomes the scapegoat for your inability to engage with me,
this is your engagement with me.
Without me saying a word, you’ve come to the conclusion about the source of your discomfort.
I am who I am because I am silent, you are who you are because of your noise.
The literalist takes this is by concluding my silence is a door mat for people to tread on whilst in reality it is noise that has become soiled with that which is impure.
So whilst I am an inconvenient spider in the room that you just can’t reach to squash, your fears, discomfort, anxiety, restlessness all becomes conveniently your source of solace for you to reconcile yourself through me.
It is as if we exist, the fringe walkers solely to justify you. To make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside because no one has ever shown you how to be all warm and fuzzy inside, so pass the line around, snort it up and keep chasing those temporary highs, we’re not going anyway, make yourself comfortable on our backs, we’re happy to remain in the shadows.
lonerloaner 