Centenario

Silence is not emptiness, but thick Resin. Echoes drown in it, every sound becomes Stuck. And a scream born somewhere near the Temple Doesn't tear the fabric. A tone suddenly appears. It doesn't fly, scattering shards of Glass. It doesn't hit the wall. A response is required. Like a stone, it falls to the bottom of A silent well of darkness and Light. And then, There in the depths, where there isn't even a Bottom, it slowly bends the Thread of space. Silence absorbs like a wave and remains Firm. But everything that isn't accidental doesn't Ring in the ear. A heaviness settles in the bones, And the soundless unspoken scream is the Loudest possible sign. It is not for the World. It is not for the world. It is a seismic fault in the landscape of The soul, Where everything has come to Nothing. The silence after the Scream is the sought-after home, Where everything that no longer exists Lives.