There is a supreme quiet
I have tasted for brief moments —
not silence, which speaks
oft of death — but such a stillness
that life for one moment
observes its own being,
a finite likeness of infinity:
we imagine that this was
what it was like in the moment
just before God spoke,
"Let there be light," and the
nothing stretched in all
directions, yet it all could be summed
in the number zero.
Or have I only imagined it was so?
Was it really death, for
some seconds looking in on me,
marking me for the taking
at my specified hour? The
mystery: how can one tell if it is
of life or of death, anything
that we do or experience?
This supreme quiet, this
wonder of a hush, is remembered
by me as the eye of the storm,
the quietest quiet of all —
but is a storm, too, life, or is it
here death in violence
thrashing out of its confinement
of nil? I know not....
There it is again (the quiet), and
I think I will not think, just be.
Ariel
8:19pm tuesday, 20th january
I remember so many times in my life, closing my eyes and seeing an amazing whiteness that was without shadow, that looked so soft that you could sink into it. It was a whiteness that was inside of me that was like light, but with a fine substance. It felt as if to get to the whiteness you had to pass through the universe inside. There were many beautiful things there that could be felt but never seen directly, only glimpses out of the corner of my eye. I would try to look at them directly, and they would be gone, but this trying to see them finally would take me to the whiteness. This was also a source of peace.
Ariel