An answer kept sacred inside the breast of nothingness. Thinking for the moment to have sent up hope into an empty sky. What becomes of silence? It ignores our hunger for answers and tugs away at anxious spirits. Uncontrollably the mind races to the next step, pondering what may become of lines uninterrupted by commas and periods. Of thoughts quickly running on to the “why’s” and “how comes”. Never once does it seek to ponder why silence makes such a covenant with our minds, commanding only a light breeze from the wind when not a sound is heard as it eases past our skins. Not once does the busy mind, always racing and so on edge care to ponder what is to be learned in the quite. Silence laughs at the foolishness of our impatience, grabbing time by the hands and together they leave us sick with questions. What is the next move to be made in the stillness? What revelation taps against the calm meditations of the heart? What revolution for our cries? What reproof must we seek to understand in the devastating muteness of the air?