The Art of Silence

The Art of Silence

Words are arrows, sleeping in a restless quiver,
The wise hand knows which to lose, which to leave untouched.
Silence, too, has a grammar,
A pause that saves a truth from becoming a wound.

Not every thought deserves the light of a tongue;
Some ripen only when kept in the dark of restraint.
Courage rises not only in the voice that stands,
But also in the stillness that bows and listens.

The loudest rooms are often the poorest in meaning,
Where noise mistakes itself for knowledge.
The fool spills words like loose change on stone,
Clinking to prove his pockets are not empty.

But the wise speak as rivers choose their banks,
Carrying depth, leaving floods unsaid.