14 May, 2021

What Lies in Silence

 Sadness has assailed me and is suffocating me. Silence has fallen, as if the door snaps shut and one self-soothes by listening to subsiding steps, only waiting, as one cannot detach oneself from one's nature, tear one's essence out, for the heart will not be deceived.

And the silence contains a trace of an ill and fateful omen: It is a way enveloped in fright, for all the world's encyclopedias crumble here in their ghostly nothingness, by which they circumscribe everything and yet are limited by their inability to capture fleeting touches of the soul, which forces all forward into a chaotic current of events, which end up in the universe of no return.

It is like the sun that lights up and fills the whole Earth with its warmth, which is plunged into the cold of darkness anon, as if untouched in the cycle of time, which has no beginning or end, keeps on passing by and inevitably rushes from birth into demise... but it is just a seeming, the will-o'-the-wisp of time: Nightfall is but a kind of anaculothon, but passage on the long way that leads towards the light.

What Lies in Silence © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Co ukrývá ticho", written on 19. 10. 2001

The Power of Vulnerability

⇉ The Will-o'-the-wisp of Ruination

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