by Liam

There is a quietness that lives

beneath the noise of things,

a silver listening woven through the spaces.

Before you sing into this fragile air

with your syllables, your song

stand still at the edge of that hush, … listen…

as you would at the rim of the surging sea.

…. be humbled

by the patience of mountains,

….. be humbled by the slow prayer of trees

rising wordless into light.

For silence is not empty

it is a basket of your presence,

a chapel where the invisible also begins to breathe.

Allow your words be drawn

from the well of kindness,

polished in the spring of thought

until they carry the shine of joy.

May each sentence you speak

be a bridge of warmth

laid gently across

another’s hidden winter.

And if your tongue cannot find

such tender brightness,

return it to the holy well

of unspoken words.

Speak softly and alone then,

when your voice can rival

the beauty,

silence has already created.