Today it rained for the first time in a long time

and I’m happy to have made it.

While early Saturday mornings are not my usual schedule, today I stumbled out of bed to turn off my alarm for work.

At least it’s not for long.

I’m sitting by my open window in the cool air, listening the downfall of rain and my favorite album by Jasper TX, Singing Stones.

I think about the silence I crave and how it’s not so silent afterall.

The crackings of twigs, drops of water, rustles of wind.

I think about true silence,

and how I may not ever heard it.

What is it, that lies underneath it all?

The humming of the Earth;

the gentle movement of air next to my ear;

where can I find it?

The only sound that I can compare it to is that of the Tao.

And though words hold a louder voice, the Tao carries none;

flowing through and past,

achieving nothing.

I hear the hums and taps of the world;

and the Tao in between.

I hear the raindrops fall on my window pane,

the pools of water created in my garden.

I feel the cold and I hear the light breath of my lover’s sleep.

And I hear the Tao underneath it all;

underneath the cracking,

the pitter-patters,

the whirling winds,

the hum of the Earth.

It’s Saturday,

and I’m glad I made it.


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