Silence

Today I experienced absolute silence.
The kind of silence where
when I dragged at my cigarette, I could hear it burn;
I could watch the amber tip brighten
amongst tiny rustlings of burning mellow leaves
that were stringing a coda in the face of their destiny,
one last time
before they would partake forever
from the quiet of their ashes.
The kind of silence that quelled poetry is made of.
The kind of silence that could witness something end
and remain unfazed,
mature in its knowledge
of the insignificant hue and cry
that is always put up
at the final moments
of any voice that had made a deal to die,
for a momentary stray into its spotlight.
The kind of silence that’s laughing at the end,
from the beginning.

(12.30.2007)

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