Fill my silence with the
sound and colour of you.
Does removing the mystery
eradicate ones power to allure?
Do we then lose our power
if we are open?
If we do lose our power is
that a bad thing if our heart is true to self?
Above all is not truth to self
the highest reward?
Is not peace in heart a fine exchange
for the loss of mystery?
Could one ever be confident enough
to be completely free of inhibition?
To go only to our own soul for self esteem
and not rely on the validation of others.
Is silence and emptiness such a trauma
that we must fill every second with distraction?
Here is some silence
Do we feel the need to fill it?
Silence makes us face our vulnerability
Not knowing makes us fumble & stumble & grumble
our way to ecstasy.
Silence is a seduction…it pulls us towards her…
But silence is also the saddist who tortures
our mind by not knowing.
Silence can hurt.
Silence can heal.
Silence can be misread.
Silence the space of not knowing.
Silence fills the space of where I would rather kiss you.
Silence is the draw card, the pull
Silence fills the gap so that the imagination
can soar and fill the missing jigsaw of
I have always been in love with mystery.
The secret of…that which is hidden beneath
the surface…but I have realised
that after the initial attraction, mystery
needs to be transformed into knowing so
that the mind does not erode the connection.
A blatant, uninhibited shout of imperfect delight
A touch of continual pleasure that
rips my soul open and makes my heart enlarge
with raw excitement…when one moves beyond
mystery to longing for untamed freedom…to
reveal, to expose, to be free…
Ah to dance…keep it light…keep it real…
Shall we dance my darling? Shall we?
Anthea Slade 25 June 2009
© Anthea Slade 2009
This is the second poem I wrote in the very early hours of 25 June 2009