Hollow

The inside
Dry
No longer the gushing fount
Of possibility
Of yearning to create, express, connect

Dry
Brittle
Ready to break

(as if it mattered, breaking)

dry
cracks, fissures
spider-webbing throughout
'spider-webbing'
makes it sound beautiful -
the expanse is not beautiful
it is evidence
of the fragility

(as if it mattered, fragility)

dry
inside
and hollow

(of course it matters, but only to me)

     -----------------------

Silent

so silent I feel it,
a pain

Silent,
      silence,
                   but not the soothing quiet

not the quiet of the woods
      full of murmers and whispers of the trees
      connected to all the dynamic life within the soil
      branches graced with birds, insects, mammals
      softly speaking to the wind
      breathing with the air
      drinking with the soil

Not the quiet of a meadow
      whishing grasses telling tales of deep roots
      laughing in the sun
      drinking in the rain
      nestling birds, insects, mammals in the hummocks

Life courses always in these places, leaving the silence rich, fecund

This is the silence of space
  silent, like a void
   Vast
                              Ever expanding
                Ever diminishing
Size beyond comprehension
Yet filling nothing

Incomprhensible
Humbling

Lifeless

Leaving me small
              incomprhensibly small, and insignificant, and alone
                                           not the poetic mote of cosmic dust
                                                                just silent