In Light of All Things
The sun rises somewhere in the distance, and light pours like milk on the horizon. The air hangs listless and viscid, and the stillness bores its way to the edges of my chest. It's not a silence that resounds as some moment of tranquillity but a hush that lays heavy with dread. Nothing should ever be so quiet. I don't know why I am telling you this; if you did find a way out, you know this as well as I do. No birds on the breeze, no leaves in the wind, no faint chatter or promise of life as yet unfound. To exist without interruption in the vacuum that remains of the world.
The Importance of Equanimity
There was something quiet in the morning that unfolded. A cold wash of sun stippled through the trees onto the frayed linen bedspread. It was the kind of hush that made you feel the entire world had stopped to revolve around this moment. Everything and nothing enclosed in a single room beside the lake. Maybe it was the water. Even as a kid, I'd felt it was a conduit before I'd learnt the word. A way of reaching something I couldn't but ought to find. There was a loneliness that wore at the edges of my fingertips as I stared out over the windowsill. I was struck by the stillness, expecting absolutely nothing and something extraordinary all at once. Some semblance of life in the trees, some quiet sound to break the silence. Nothing stared back at me, and the loneliness moved to the centre of my chest.