If you’ve ever been engulfed by a silence that refuses to budge, you’ll probably relate :
I’m trying to stir within myself a storm
Because something akin to the silence that precedes it
Has been brewing inside me for long
And as it has gone on its rounds
It’s turned every shade of colour into a balanced greyscale.
Not a dab of black or sparkle of white
Tips its needle on either side.
It does not let me plunge into complete darkness
Or allow me to emerge in bright light
It leaves me to breathe in the viscous penumbra of shadows in twilight
Blurred, undefined, barely a silhouette against a grainy background
I struggle to move out of this two dimensionality
And move, really move, get some displacement.
Put a physical distance between myself and this shadow
Do something that causes it to diminish in size
Or trick it to lengthen itself into a ridiculous height
But I manage none of this.
I manage nought.
Nothing of my thoughts get sold, nothing gets bought.
Only the silence proves to be successful
It advances, it moves beyond sound and conquers space
And by absorbing all movement, it graduates into stillness
A stillness that wishes to convince
That nothing existed before it
And nothing can come after
And so I’m trying to summon a storm
That will take this all engulfing stillness by surprise
Creep up on it when it least expects it and
Reduce its thick glassiness into immutable dust.
And so I call onto the winds that sustain me
And the gravity that holds me back from reaching out for help
And I shake up the skies in the hopes that I can favourably align
The stars that are sewn on them
In a pattern that will unlock
The doors through which storms can walk
Into this world of stillness and tear it down
So that I can begin the work of building it up from scratch
For I’m good at that, I’m better at it than shrugging off this spell
That has me all caught.