The stillnesses draws us:
The starry night,
Cabbage palms clumped
Against twin infinities
Of sawgrass and sky.
Even the small silences
Of a maple leafs
Swinging crimson fall,
Caterpillar’s gnawing
The last sweetness
From a stem,
The doomed frog
In the heron’s eye
Pull at us
With unspeakable longing.

For our silences are
Full of noise,
Unstuck in time,
Swarming cacophonies
Past forward
To current trivia
Flung in uncertainty
At the future:
The vanity of plans
Undone in the moment
Of their truth.

The stillness is
The eternal invitation,
Behind the thoughts,
Immortal, unquenched need.
Dare we step out
From the safety of our sounds
Into the silence,
Into that unhorizoned land?

– Durjaya Pliske.


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