Contained by ivory walls, and an oval of wooden chairs, muted colours of the matt, flat cushions, high benches and this handsome, slatted wooden floor.
On the central table, just a thick, glass, rectangular vase of startlingly white chrysanthemums.
Again; in this quiet company of souls.
We drift in one by one.
It’s just past six; outside the sky is lightening, spring stirs;
We feel it in our chromosomes, our blood, our bones; awakening.
I hear muted conversations out side, my ringing ears, the creak of feet,
small changes of position.
While second by second, the silence grows,blooms and deepens.
Here, it doesn’t matter who you are; what you’ve achieved, what you believe;
or what you own.
Age, sex, where you were born, are all immaterial in this eternal moment; this silence steals away concepts and words.
First, foremost and always you are a fellow, breathing human being.
Just let the silence grow, blossom and deepen.
Here, nothing is required of us; no will and no resolve.
There’s just an invitation … to let … the self …..
© Ingrid Andrew <> HeartsSong