The world was very silent last night.
\nI was in a synagogue
\nwhere the last canto was sung.
\nA church that rang with after tones,
\nlike rain already fallen.
\nThe forest when it wakes,
\nthe leaves uncurling their faces,
\nthe air like silk,
\nbeing unfolded
\nlike a tapestry of butterflies
\nrising in the pale face of the sky.
\nIt was quiet,
\nas if for a moment
\neverything was ready to be born.
\nI scarcely breathed.<\/p>\n
I kept walking not wanting to be still,
\nbecoming part of invisible doorways.
\nSo still that the stars became audible,
\na music I\u2019d never heard,
\nsongs crossing the path of an open void.
\nI never knew so much aching and longing
\nexisted in those faraway ports,
\nwhere notes sought for a violin,
\na flute,
\na voice to release their tremolos.<\/p>\n
I turned and saw the earth
\nwith its horizon,
\na blue kindness.
\nI felt ripples ascending
\nin the softness of the air,
\ndreams made by women
\nlooking through the windows
\nof their hearts.
\nMen in debt,
\nplaying ball in the fields
\nof their childhood,
\nand I walked slowly
\nas if a cadence were made
\nfrom the beating of so much power,
\nand I was the last man alone,
\nto hear
\nthe call of so much singing.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The world was very silent last night. I was in a synagogue where the last canto was sung. A church that rang with after tones,…<\/p>\n