between sounds
between the owl and the fox
silence has come, wind
has risen, falling, still.
the song, it lives in pauses,
in the long slow drop of dew
before it ever reaches the leaf
on which it will rest and die
without a trace in the light of day
the silence between two sounds
can wake us to the scent of seas
or grow a noise in the mind, flood
the soul with memory and tears
words and whispers on love, in sleep
they are born and in dream they rise
to life, beyond the slaughter of day,
far from language in softest touch
of souls breathing in and out, slow
and as if the skin was wings to move:
where we forget to forget we will
be reborn between sounds
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