In compassion

I give you silence

My most precious gift.

No words

White black or brindle

No multi-hued verbal psychedelia

They are the wrappings

To be torn

To be thrown away

Discard them!

For you have wasted forty thousand years

Engrossed with the packaging

Driven to paranoia

In attempting to decipher

The label.

Unwrap my gift

Ponder – Wonder – Wordless

At THIS

The ISNESS

So full of silence

Too loud for you to hear.

Read the non-words

Crowding in the spaces

Jostling in the margins

Frantically trying to catch

Your attention.

Listen how expressively they say

Nothing

NO

THING

 

“But that is unsound!” you say.

And you are right

 

Unknowingly.

 


For there

Beyond logic

You will find it

Providing you do not seek

And there you will hear

The UN sound,

The silent song that sings you.

Take my gift

That it may take You

In Silence.

Copyright H. St.Vincent Beechey May 1972.