when the framing of silence is gone,
the listening for abraded interruptions
loses its cutting-edge of sharp contrasts.
what then to do with one's attention.
it wasn't the silence
that listening was apprehensively approaching.
it was for the lack of sound being present,
the lack of clear recognition presenting.
so again,
what then?
only to discover one's limited range of audio perception,
done as the transmission of recognition?
what is the insanity of no sound?
what if the soundless chamber for a hearing person
is the next sound not heard?
imagine no sight,
no salvia,
no touch,
no sense of weight
as opposed to weightlessness,
the void of input abounding.
how silent would that all be?
what mind a drift,
paddling along on inner conversation's riffs
until that realization
of soundless inner conversation approaches.
then, overwhelmed by mutedness presenting,
deep thought without all of the jabber
soon, self, traveling in incomplete sentences,
less and less articulation to sensible comprehension.
just loud silence
as if blaring across dimensions untold.
how well for then,
to know oneself beyond the narrative.
is this then when emotions have wings?
is this when personality seems so facade?
does this feel more like a stream
that has never had a sense of banks or bottom?
could one have ever wished
to be able to speak the truth
of this place from within?
in the normal light of day,
with the blaring of sound,
intimately woven through it?
so what would silence, from there,
when spoken,
have to speechlessly say ? . . .
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