silence has a shape of its own

There is a particular kind of silence
that arrives before something begins.

It doesn’t demand.

It waits.

I’ve been standing there lately.


Emptying and filling
Refueling.

You’ve known thresholds too.
Those silent times of
decision and wonder and hope.

What needs my attention?
When am I restless
to meet the threshold?

At the garden gate,
morning mist hovering,
I wonder in silence.

What silence in you
is breaking?

What breakthrough is calling?

here, a place to pause—to let your thoughts surface