The architecture of silence.
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3.55am | d e c a t u r i s l a n d
This morning, the world was so silent. And I wondered, where is anyone? Any one. And there was no one. It was just that, profoundly quiet. So quiet, that there was barely a sound anywhere. No breeze, no shuffling leaves, no shuttering barked skin on the Madronas, no; there were no licking waves — and nothing in the air, flying; some distant jet, some night bound airplane sputtering along. No thing.
I contemplated that, the space that I was in, standing outside, nearly nude in the profundity of that — this one quiet moment. And while it might be barely unnerving, that quietude. I realized that, in the beating of my heart, there was serenity.
Just then, something squirmed in the water below. That set ripples in motion, shore lapping. Heron quorked that prehistoric croak, the world returned to rightful sound, that moment. And it rippled out.
Meanwhile, writing this, tiny winged insects whir their microscopic sounds and the computer cools itself, in harmony.
Still quiet, but silent no more, the world turns in its measure; and I’m listening to the next…For the next.
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