silence, unfinished.
i am contemplating the silence that is left.
more than the quiet after the storm,
it is the taste and texture of the emptiness,
of what is left after the whirlwind of physical sensations and emotions
that this creative process stirs up,
making what's already there, stored within the muscles made of flesh and brain and consciousness,
more apparent, more real, more immediate
overwhelming
for all to see and witness
and for -me- to, now, process.
