You may seek to follow
the path of the dove,
for a fool knows many roads.
You may wrap yourself
in fine linen, an infant
wears only his skin
and knows this moment
is already gone.
Think long before you speak
of how to walk
along the path, of where it leads.
The baby says nothing,
will not speak of where
he has been,
where he is going, for to him
there is only here,
and silence
is descriptive enough.
All singularities are naked
and it is only
when we clothe them
that they crumble away.
You step into this river only once
but it is this water
which will wet your feet
when you step in
the next and the next.
We spend countless time
trying to find silence,
and when we find it
it drives us to distraction.
We can lose ourselves in noise
as we never can in silence,
and being emotionally naked alone
is the scariest place
this side of death, and we know
that death promises
only silence eternal.
