snagging a spot of silence

for silence

(the silence of hearing

the sounds about one

the silence within one)

is pleasure most scarce

a waif bears of hands

one grabs for the treasure

clings to the pleasure

till the air fills the space

and smiles up the face

as the treasures spill forth

in the hole in the soul

the spot's a longing

a foundling

like a babe upon a stair

for loving-embracing

for nurturance and grace

*Reflections of Alan Jones:

  -Truth lies in the interpretation.

  -Words mislead as well as reveal, lie as well as tell the truth.  We can say even true things falsely.

  -...there is very little agreement on the meaning of words we use to convey our deepest sensibilities.

 -We have lost the skill of seeing our life as an art in which we try to discern many different levels of reality at work.

  -...each one of us is a work in progress, and it takes a long time to make a human being.