In monastic life, this "brink" was practically everywhere. "Great Silence" was observed every evening from the end of Compline (final common prayer of the day) until Vigils the next morning (around 4 a.m.). The first word of Saint Benedict's Rule for monks is: "Listen." Not always easy amid all our human distraction and noise... but your poem is a welcome reminder that silence is always and already here, and every "brink" of silence is a place to"listen" and "begin". Reminds me of a plaque next to the monastery guest-chapel entrance that read: "Silence is as deep as Eternity."
Silence certainly possesses a limitless or unending quality that appears to transcend time. As such, it could certainly be experienced as eternal or eternity. Whether it is eternity or not, I don't know. This query might raise another question: if silence is eternity, is it also Divinity? There is a Nepalese saying: "Work is worship. Silence is God."
In monastic life, this "brink" was practically everywhere. "Great Silence" was observed every evening from the end of Compline (final common prayer of the day) until Vigils the next morning (around 4 a.m.). The first word of Saint Benedict's Rule for monks is: "Listen." Not always easy amid all our human distraction and noise... but your poem is a welcome reminder that silence is always and already here, and every "brink" of silence is a place to"listen" and "begin". Reminds me of a plaque next to the monastery guest-chapel entrance that read: "Silence is as deep as Eternity."
Don't you think silence is eternity?
Silence certainly possesses a limitless or unending quality that appears to transcend time. As such, it could certainly be experienced as eternal or eternity. Whether it is eternity or not, I don't know. This query might raise another question: if silence is eternity, is it also Divinity? There is a Nepalese saying: "Work is worship. Silence is God."
Lovely reply, thank you.
In my understanding, everything is divinity.... even, God help us, Trump. Very veiled divinity, yes.
A perfect little poem... every word counts (as they always should)... so pithy, too! Nice work, Amrita!
Thank you, Jan. My husband, who doesn't read poetry other than mine, said--"really. A six-word poem."
yup. It originally had eight. My mentor suggested the other two words were "too noisy" for the poem.