Why is every leaving a coming home?
Why is every coming home a leaving?
Carried away by the strong wind, quickly trying to untangle the chords of its string, my
soul lies untethered
The ground soars beneath like a brown bag of sadness
And even the smell of the earth is replaced.
Here, I am silent.
To live in silence is to comprehend
The light within yourself.
From that silence comes a different movement
Not a sound
Not time
Not placed anywhere in
Words or thoughts
It cannot be measured
Cannot be sought
It is forever new and forever dying
This light of silence.
WILDsound Writing Festival 