Still and quiet.

What a joy it is to know nothing about my own nothingness.

Shelled in my own elaborate cave.

Hermetically sealed in a liquid paradise.

I revel in the nest of my own invention.

Or at least that is what I think it is.

But you’ll forgive my solipsism for you have had it too.

Wrapped up in bed at night when all the tired slaves make their way. 

Home at last to set an alarm to start a new day for a spectacular routine 

Of disappointments and mundane miracles.

But I’ve always had it here, inside my fragile casing as pockmarked as the 

Moon yet smooth and luminous at a distance .

I wonder will I see the light of day and I wonder, do I want to?

Break me, roll me over and crack me with a spoon? No.

I’ll hold still and quiet and not say a word.

Silence is my armour. A shield to wrap my self inside.

And bide my time for this journey I am going to take. 

Listen. There is a clock ticking or is it sand trickling through an hourglass?

Is this the sound that makes the silence before the sound?

From top to bottom through a slender neck.

This is where I am, in between time when it is counted.

Just to make sure nothing happens twice or happens once, again and again.

 I am a yoke, a joke. But I am not not egging you on.

You wouldn’t believe what a song I have been singing.

And the music of the spheres that I have at my command makes me 

Weep as if I heard Bach for the first time.

The dumb sense of infinity ringing in my ears that will create an ever expanding universe. That is my ambition and nothing will hold me back from all the galaxies. 

Rushing away from each other trying to be free, from me.

The singularity. The ineffable egg that I am. The same egg that is you.

Rolling towards the edge, the sun creeps up the sky.

Stars retreat to their slumbered beds and forget to ask why.

The midnight candle flickers and burns down to the wick.

The insect clock weaves a web, the spider makes it tick.

The earth makes its final turn and pillows its own head.

To listen to the songs of dawn. No longer filled with dread. 

I hold my breath but how can this be?

I have no tongue to say these things nor eyes that can even see.

But a serpent is coiling round my shell.

Waiting to happen. Happy to wait.

Still and quiet, while the roar of the universe rages on.