“We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox”
– Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook.
In a tiny wood shack,
under morning mist
And surrounded by quiet,
There struck a conversation
when two strangers first meet
To clear the air of uncertainty.
There a voice rises in the back of my mind,
And the wish to voice it, more than once.
In the aftermath of words, which flowed free,
Could you also share my silences?
An endless string of words, intervenes,
Out of fear or pride, I can’t be sure.
like a vain attempt at saving the talk,
or a consequence it might assure.
When the longing to speak out has run its course,
Could we then delve in the calm,
As the vibes fall still?
And let it linger in the empty space
With neither the wish to break, nor the intent to fill.
Even without the tête-à-tête,
the same porch would do.
The lonely sun I see setting, from shore,
I’d rather watch with you.
While walking down the road well-known
Or struggling, or in doubt, alone.
Simple things I love, and you enjoy too,
Or just going about the things we do.
Over fleeting moments which assure, someone cares,
I would choose your presence there.
Consider all and then count those few,
with whom we could share that space with ease.
And seek the bond strengthened by voice unheard
with a need to fill the void of words.