Lenten Questions, No. 6: on Silence

Q: What is silence?

A: Silence is when you no longer hear the Word, the Word wrapped in a ritual of despair splayed up on a dead tree by the miserable potty-waste of a cardboard State, which only understands bodies, dead or alive. ¿Le gusta este jardín, que es suyo? ¡Evite que sus hijos lo destruyan!

The Word was with God, but the world knew Him not, the Word that through Him God made the world and for Him, too. And despite the worldly intentions, notwithstanding, a Word of singularity, freedom, with infinity collapsed, as it were, on the head of pin in a moment, the Son harrowing the hell out of Hell.

Rejection ... "knowing not." What happens when sound is divorced from meaning, sight from vision, experience from Law, consciousness from Light? Then the Word is spoken but simply not heard. Take everything away from man, everything, destroy everything, silence the music, squash the light into one bare speck, one candle flame in the stadium of stygian night.

Silence is the black hole, across the blue event horizon. The dead tree is straining, the sun is blank, ghastly. The moon has shrouded herself in pall.

What will you do now, now that you have the last word? Do you have anything to say? Any word, without the Word?

I didn’t think so.

That, is silence.

No se puede vivir sin amar.