Even your madness will seem incomplete in front of it. You can judge it as much as you want, resent it, even hate it, but it will not react.
It’s most profound aspect.
Hurl more ugly words at it, it can take it. You can’t tear it or burn it. It will seem the same as when before the storm and it will be so after its passing.
You can stab it with words and noise but it will never respond with violence, even though it might provoke that in you, but not from an intent of manipulation, but to empty you out of it, so you can have space…to feel…to breath.
Hate doesn’t dilute itself but the life it’s expressed through. You can throw all that into it and it’ll channel it.
you will be reminded of this loss in you. A lullaby will come to surface. losses of love, stories unheard, breeze locked up.
You’d exhale…maybe a tear drop will become part of the rain.
The tyranny of ego will be breached because you purged all anger.
In that moment you will become part of this being. words will be relieved of their work, broken one’s being healed.
The temporal is the instrument but what is an instrument without a Song.
But then what is a song, without the Silence.