The Sound of Silence
In the silence of the space that holds my body in physical
existence, echoes the inaudible voice of the master that is my
eternal soul.
God does not exist in this world, more over; God as we know him
exists only as an illusion, painted by creatures of a physical
world in their likeness.
That which we call God is really nothing at all, and just as
equally, everything that is. In his/her likeness I am sitting at
my computer creating a senseless article about nothing. It is
only a random thought echoing through the silence of this space,
finding physical expression on a two dimensional screen and
finally edged onto a peace of paper. These three dimensional
symbols of my thoughts have some kind of vague meaning that is
not even comprehensible to my physical mind. It is an exercise
of futility with no meaning and no logical conclusion.
My illusive soul bears the burden of my weighted body and grows
impatient for it to catch up. While I remain grounded with one
foot firmly anchored traveling endlessly in incessant circles
demanding to find where I started and where I will end up.
I am the resolute rodent putting one redundant foot forward and
then another, always leaving, and always returning to the same
spot, unaware of nothing more than the turning of the wheel and
the next tread.
The silence suffers in silence and becomes deaf to it in time.
The movement of the turning wheel gives silence meaning as it
turns, in endless squeaks and rattles. My laboured breathing
matches the heavy foot steps that crash exultantly through the
silence in waves of self expression. I am that silence reaching
out to give expression, I am not all that I claim to be until I
demonstrate what I am not. I am the silence seeking to be the
silent, always. The endless chattering of mind brings awareness
of who I am and what I am and the noise of my own thinking
brings with it the desire to know the splendor of silence, to
return once again from where I came. To calm the impatient
creature and silence the infinite wheel, to stop all motion so
that once again I may know myself as nothing.
I am the eternal soul; I am the silence between your
existences, the nothing that brings everything into your
awareness and mine. When you want to know me, be silent!
Your thoughts are not your own, and you tune into them as a
radio tunes into different random frequencies and reproduces
them as sound. You reproduce these thoughts into physical
reality. They are the eternal thoughts of others that came
before. Thought is infinite. In the silence of space it travels
in endless chaos until you bring it meaning and structure. You
believe that these thoughts are yours and take ownership. You
add one thought to another creating a new formula or equation
that is uniquely yours and transmit them through the abyss until
another tunes in.
All thoughts are joined together and melded by your unique
personality. From the creative silence comes a new sound that
resonates in your world passing from one to another and then
once again lost in the infinite space that holds all things
together. I am the silence and I listen for your clamour so that
I might know myself as all things. You are that which you call
life, unfettered, free "to be, or not to be," always moving,
always creating, always.
I am the silent observer, the sound of silence and ever present
in and around the resonant notes of a symphony of sound.
And as the silence becomes too loud, I will once again seek the
clattering of your gilded cage, my precious.