I think therefore you are!
You are, therefore I am!
I think, therefor I have chosen "to be"
That I have responded no,
to the "not to be"
I think therefor I am not alone;
therefore, I am, alone
afflicted by the shared loneliness.
I think therefore I am alive!
I think because the death, the silence,
doesn't make sense to me.
I think therefor I am a prisoner of my thoughts,
therefor my screams
have to drill into the concreate of silence,
_silence,
the unbeaten apple of my voice!_
I have to make the silence burn and cough in my throat,
to be able to hear “it”: the word, the music,
to hear that the silence is not the absence of voices,
it is the presence
of all of them,
rightful to be heard,
to be uttered while unspoken,
because we must scratch the walls of separation
either in our voices
or, in our silence,
we must be heard
by the syntheses of voice and silence.
Silence is us,
Stillness,
before being disturbed by waves.
Silence is us
when we are not split with our voices,
with me and you,
with our differences.
Silence is us when there is no need
to utter
knowing in your heart
nothing there,
would ever remain unheard.
Silence means there is no space,
no distance to raise your voice;
everything is one and one is everything.
Silence means all the differences are particles.
Silence means everything
when answers mean and purport nothing.
Silence is absolute
where the answers are obsolete.
