Silence

The container of my heart

I have emptied it of tears

pouring them out

bit by bit, drip by drip.

 

In that emptiness

there is no joy

there is no mirth

nor tinkling laughter.

 

Nor is there grief

in that vast emptiness

for it is bereft

of tears that once flowed.

 

In that emptiness

there is no birdsong

no soft rustling of leaves

nor gurgling of icy streams.

 

Into that emptiness

I retreat, my haven.

A cup filled is limited

by what it already has,

only emptiness is unlimited

by everything that it can be.

 

Birdsong is birdsong

and nothing else,

only still silence can be

birdsong, rustle and everything else.

Into that emptiness

I retreat, my haven.