Silence

Isn't it strange how the sound of rain doesn't interrupt silence?

Sixty millimeters of rain fell one night recently - in torrents on a seemingly oceanic scale. The house shuddered like a kayak under a cataract. It was a cathartic immense passion of water emptying heaven of its pent-up tears.

And yet. This huge elemental thundering had no effect on my own silence, tranquility, isolation. I slept in peace, woke in calm awe, slept again unconcerned.

Silence is more than the absence of sound. There is often sound in my silence. I've learned how to create silence amid the clamour, and a joyous calm from cold silence