In the stillness, my thoughts search desperately for escape.
They long for noise.
They fear exposure.
In the silence they run, terrified.
My mind clings
to the whisper of a car in the distance
to the throbbing of a watch
to the aching creak of an old roof.
An idea shines through chink of quiet in the solid rock of Sound
and quickly dives back into darkness.
Like a trusting child believes that in the stillness
the butterfly will alight upon her hand,
so I wait for my thoughts to settle.
Gradually the wings still
My mind abandons the echoes for stillness;
the rock dissolves into silence.
Ideas flow gently like water through my fingers;
clear, pure and free.