These are the words that fade into the silence. This is what is said when there is nothing left to say. These are the hands that make certain half-completed gestures as if they, like the words have nothing left to say.
We turn, each back to our own silences and leave this room empty of everything except the slow dancing dust left in the sunlight to settle down, leaving this room emptier than it has ever been.
The silence grows, spreads out, blanching even the simplest words of meaning and context, turning them to dust that settles and lies undisturbed. A thin veneer left coating the surfaces of the lives that once filled this room.
We no longer have the energy left for the words, nothing except to turn away. Each closing our own doors on this shared room, leaving it empty, a place for the dust of memory to settle and wait until everything is forgotten.
One day this room will fill again with new lives, new words, people with something still to say to one another and the dust will dance again as it swirls and eddies around a living landscape.
Until then though it would be best to keep this doors closed and give the room the time to forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment