The Heart of Silence

By Nana M Singehebhuye

The deafening heart of silence inflicts its insanity and expresses her duality in the stillness of day. Silence screams in the void, capturing their souls, imprisoning their hearts, expressing emotional states of happy colours and rainy days.

In silence they sit with their own thoughts. Their minds bloom like moonlit flowers, each petal unfolding secrets only the dark can hear. The air holds its breath, heavy with unspoken dreams, while time tiptoes softly through their stillness. 

Some silences are quiet while others are so violent. They try to find their voices in the quietness, while their voices drown in the noise. The silence of their minds is lost and drained in the nothingness.  Engulfed in the stillness of time. 

The quiet, stillness of silence freezes time, and demands a sacrifice of the noise within.  Their minds are oceans, tides of memory whisper against unseen shores, currents of longing stirring beneath calm faces.

Even the walls lean closer, eager to listen to the hush that hums between heartbeats. In that quiet congregation, each soul is a lantern turned inward, burning its own small flame, waiting for dawn to find its name.

The heart of Silence is both the pause before creation and the echo after the end. The heart of Silence beats in two tempos, one pulse of peace, one murmur of ache. It is both cradle and crypt, holding what the world dares not to name. 

By Nana M Singehebhuye