The Sound of Silence

I shall use this long drawn silence to talk to you. I would use these pauses to tell you all I wish to say. The vacuum extends from all what is trapped inside me to your being. I have always relied on you to interpret these unsaid sentences. Very often, you have surprised me by translating them to perfection. Hope you still have the power left in you to read the unsaid.

I do not wish to clarify any thing. My stand perhaps, has not changed one bit. We have had extended conversations from which nothing can be quoted. We have talked a lot about things that were and perhaps would have been. Such dialogues have only given birth to meaningless strands of words with undue emotion attached to them. It seems that the actual voices just kept breaking on the stones at the shore, their screams being lost to barren solitude.

Maybe one of these days, you shall discover the writing on the wall. Maybe someday the sound lost in the clouds shall be reflected back somehow and you shall be able to pick the signal on some radio. If that doesn’t happen, I promise you that I would leave a message by your bedside when I move out. Just reach out for that blank sheet of paper and try and make out the spots where the letter got wet. Maybe you would be able to feel the creases on the sheet with your fingers and know how I held it to my heart. Check for the  perforated edge and the way the holes tore through. Maybe you shall be able to decipher how my fingers moved and trembled along as I separated the sheet from the notebook.

If everything fails and you do not see anything, come by and read my epitaph. I would leave the stone blank for you to come and pick the sound of silence on it. It is the sound I would leave behind, taking along a thousand unsaid words.