There is silence everywhere.
Silence, so many empty spaces fulfilled with silence.

I remember Dostoevsky’s short fiction tale “The meek One” :
“Why did gloomy inertia smash that which was dearest of all? […] Inertia! O, nature! People on earth are alone, that’s what’s wrong. […] Everything is dead and there are corpses everywhere. People, alone, and around them, silence-such is the earth!”

Sometimes it is inside me, so scaring. A steady sand filling up your throat, leaving your heart and brain empty, and your body numb.
Sometimes it is a healing silence – as a fresh air in the mountain, high, close to the open sky, or as the pulsation of the sea – mighty and rebellous.
I don’t know where I am now…

I wish I could fill up this silence with beauty – not to be trivial – as also Dostoevsky said that the beauty will save the world…

Universe is not a silence – it is a music. Wish that everyone could hear it, and to transform its message into life.

Journal Comments

  • karldenton
  • Peco Grozdanovski
  • Vasile Stan
  • Lidiya
  • Barbara Sparhawk