Subtlety

 

   

There is no silence.

It is quiet, no manufactured noise,

no machinery running in the background

or dog barking down the street,

but a hum, a teeming, the earth breathing,

the planets spinning,

the synapses pulsating in concert.

 

There is always a scent.

No smell or odor perhaps, always a taste.

Eyes closed, nothing to see

and the world of vitreous, swirling,

dancing between the eye and the lid,

tiny red dots in the blackness,

more solar systems than in the night sky.

 

There is no movement. No touch.

No muscle activity, no strain,

still to a meditation and yet the force

of an unfulfilled levitation.

The motionless effort to resist dead weight.

The soul. This is life.

The quiet spirit the holy men speak of.

 

2 comments

  1. “The motionless effort to resist dead weight.

    The soul. This is life.

    The quiet spirit the holy men speak of.”

    Craig,

    Your poem hypnotizes this reader.
    You have put the almost silence of the night sounds in my head.
    The floaters…you turn them from intruders to a part of the rhythm
    of the primordial gel. “The force of an unfulfilled levitation” is symbolic
    and powerful.

    Sarah

    Like

  2. Hi craig

    This is a beautiful expression of a cosmic as well as a personal silence. I love the imagery and the arrangement of language in this piece. In the eye of the universe and the eye of mind or soul there is this sense of subtlety, this quiet energy that makes the world spin, humanity feel/dream/function, and the universe glittering with possibilities, a galaxy’s conscious or imagination.

    Thank you so much for sharing,
    I really enjoyed reading this one!

    My best
    wendy

    Like

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