Silence Is Better

When you are under a full moon, In the high midnight noon, before the vastness of a village green field, The air is still, a sudden chill, and then you began to feel “the silence”, all around you trill. She is silent like that. She is silent like the love-struck staring at the stars in the sleeping city. She is silent like the poet about to recite his last elegy. She is silent like the girl opening her window to the dawn. She is silent like the moment for no reason we feel so alone. So whenever I am near, I touch the silence, which became so dear, I seem to understand, but sadly not quite I fear! so I softly utter, Yes my Love! Silence is much Better. And then sometimes when she wears white, She is radiant as ever. But the radiant words that I long for, it is not allowed for me to desire. Her hair dance dark & deep, curve & sway, A peaceful breeze through the deep quiet forest. Some pure moments the sun glistens through trees. Thinks the traveler. “It is the place, I can take some rest”. Should she ever tell, or be silent forever? “Did she leave all her conversations behind her?” Hurts of the past perhaps made us more of a stranger. Then I console my heart of a futile searcher, “If she thinks silence is golden! Then her silence is much better.” (April 11, 2007)