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When one ceases to hear the many, they can then discern the ONE -
the inner sound that silences the outer. Before the soul can see, it must first render
fleshly eyes as viewing mostly only illusion. Before the soul can hear, it must first
become deaf to roaring and whispers. Before the soul can comprehend, it must first be
united with the silent speaker. For then the soul will hear and remember, and then the
inner ear will speak -
The Voice Of Silence...
© The Voice of the Silence by H. P. Blavatsky |
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A Geography Of Silence
Noise tumbles through
eternity's shadow
into a place where quiet whispers
seem loud as thunder..
Golden fixed moon with its silent stare
hears water droplets as they giggle
in clouds that pass by..
Angels tuck sweet lullaby baby coos
within serenity's deep cushion
of soft feathered wings
Stillness locks away quiet treasures
near the edge of time's glass heart
where solitude dreams..
Mind dangles in streams of thought
filled with sounds all hushed
in a geography of silence..
© Randy
St.Marie / May 2002
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Near The Birthplace Of
Time
Up there, just north of the milky
way
caromed off a corner of Andromeda,
an incandescent comet in a race with
dawn streaks like fire hair..
It is a piece of star far from home
where planets were left orphaned and
skies are woven from blue thread
near the birthplace of time..
Silver moon turns on its side to watch
as orange bleeds from edges of stone
and small fragments of red pearls
exhale microscopic nomads..
© Randy
St.Marie / April 2002
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Perforated Soul
Kaleidoscope dreams orbit in black
where the sun undresses itself
and naked night's a centerfold..
Words float away in oxygen bubbles
between pregnant syllables
and air conditioned excuses..
Quicksand rainbows swallow hope
when weightless hearts sink
in aquariums full of silence..
Scars grow where wings should be
perforated soul hidden well
in the shadow of your smile..
© Randy
St.Marie / April 2002
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