Silence - Blog Posts
There is beauty
in the silence, in the stillness, in the gone-ness.
In the dripping water casting ripples in puddle—
who is left to see it?
In the soundless streets—
who is left to hear it?
-
There is beauty
in the empty, in the quiet, in the ghosts.
In the burning lights, haloes silver and rose—
who is left to see?
In the winding roads, snow pristine and clear—
who is left?
-
There is beauty
in the dark, in the soft, in the peace.
Silence is a commodity rarely found and never sought,
An extinct creature killed by advancing times.
There is beauty in its return;
There is beauty in its resurrection.
-
(who is left to hear?)
-
—beauty in a time of mourning (y.c.)
Everyone loves a good tragedy.
The broken pieces scattered in an abyss
The quiet pleading in the rain
The silent aftermath when all is
said
gone
dead.
Everyone loves a good tragedy,
but I suppose the tragedy is us, isn’t it?
Too young to give up
Too old to make up dreams
that fly us from reality on golden wings
— until the tragedy is them (y.c.)
They say I’m too young to be sad
and to smart to stay so quiet
but
Who made me this way?
Trust me,
It wasn’t me
— Yushan C.
On the fifth day, which was a Sunday, it rained very hard. I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty. #rainbow #rain #water #nature #kerala #whitenoise #silence #love #followforfollowback #instagood #reels #post #videography https://www.instagram.com/p/CFEeQoIHACb/?igshid=ke0mh535t28w
Silence sometimes is the loudest cry
•.・❥・♡꙳𓂃𓂂*・❥・꙳•.
"Human is a >>spoken<< animal, but only individuals who have something to keep silent about with each other mate for life."
- Wojciech Kuczok
.｡⭒☆*°࿇♡♡࿇°*˚・。.
May there be peace with your Sunday coffee, in your rest, in your thoughts, in everything you do today. May its silence and peace wrap up you softly.
M.
From death, life.
They stand before her, and they brandish their weapons callously, carelessly. She knows they mean to kill her – she’s of no use to them. “Don’t run and we’ll make it quick, little girl,” one of them says. “You can join your family.” She knows that he is lying. The world is open before her, and she knows all that may be known.
She can see the silence behind them, the darkness. Death. The void awaits.
The men smirk. They are empty of life and humanity, worn to blood, bone, and sharpened teeth by violence. They expect her to beg. They do not know.
She stands before them, small. Her spine is straight, and her head is high. She meets his eyes.
“No,” she says, and her voice is strong and clear. It is still a girl-child’s voice, but there is something more behind it.
He is taken aback, but something nasty quickly enters his eyes. “More fun for us then,” he tells the others.
“No,” she says again.
“I am not afraid to die.” She tells them, and there is a universe under her skin. She feels her life like a star in her chest, and death like tides in her blood.
They roar with laughter and start forward. They step with heavy feet on soil rich with death. They do not know.
The darkness is behind them, within them, between every atom in the air and in the earth. It is within her. The silence.
“I am not afraid to die,” she repeats, “but today is not my day to die. It is yours.”
The raucous laughter enters the air again, but she can see something like fear rising in the eyes of the wiser ones.
The time for words is over. The silence is here.
She closes her eyes - and breathes. Life is here, she thinks. Death is here, she thinks. Truth rings strong in the silence.
The darkness rises in her like the tides. The empty space between the stars is here, between the pieces of the universe. Void calls to void. The hungry dark will devour all. The shadows grow, and –
She opens her eyes, but there is nothing to see. The dark presses like a living thing against her skin, but she is not afraid. She is part of it, and it a part of her. There is no sound, because the dark and silence swallow all. But she can feel them. She can sense their light growing dim. Their fear grows, as the darkness within answers to the call of the darkness without.
She holds both death and life, light and dark, silence and sound, void and star – in her hands and in her heart. Her light does not fade as the darkness grows. There is no fear in her. She has already passed through the void and emerged.
The lights in the darkness are gone. The sense of nothing presses against her skin. She waits. She knows it is not yet done.
She waits, and the dark waits also, hungry. It is restless and chaotic, and it would consume her given the chance. She remembers the star in her chest. And waits.
And in the consuming darkness, the void of chaos and nothingness, something starts to grow. She smiles in the blackness, and breathes in, bringing air into her lungs where there was none. The light in her chest flares. Her star fills her whole self. The shadows recede. She blinks in the sunlight. There are no men in front of her. There are no more bodies in the streets. There is only rich black soil.
She steps forward and kneels, brushing the dirt away from a bright green seedling. Life.