A Vision Of Music Poem by Daniel Brick

In Memoriam:
Horatio Radulescu

Each day makes its way back
silence. And we make a parallel
journey. It is the same imperative
that reaches closure. In silence,
feelings aleep, thoughts withdraw
into depths where they coil themselves
and wait for the moment to ascend.
Meantime, silence fills all available
space, and time keeps strict measures.
I could write a poem but that activity
must also wait its turn. I want to sink.
I want to be embedded in soul's soil,
to be immersed in the incomparable wealth
of primal growth. I am neither hope
nor fear at these depths. Rather I witness
an original unity. I can hear rainwater
part walls of dirt, as it slips downward
to become earth. Such images are
a synesthesia that takes us across the threshold,
and we greet the others, also just arrived.
We behold - nothing. We are the silence.