The violin quivers with silence; there linger in the air
the soft remnants of Hope
for long thereafter. We imagine Eternities.
We carve out of wood some
semblance of ourselves,
but it can only break apart, or burn.
Men, they all die.
The woods prolong our spirits,
as the stars reign
in their silence.
I have heard the Music
ineffably fragile,
like a deer in spring,
like stillness is
as well. I have also heard the trumpet
lasting into the silence,
as though quiet were carved
by God
for songs to fill.
July 1st, 2017
Sequim, Washington
af. "Earth" by Hans Zimmer