Reflecting on silence
I am sitting in silence listening to a candle flame flicker. The sound it makes is nothing, the nothingness of the space in which it burns. In flickering silence, it does not seek more. It simply dances in the emptiness of its own space.
With embers still glowing, a roll of lit sage lies next to the candle. Sage and candle side by side. Wisps of lingering smoke curling around the flickering flame. Each follows its own way. One is not the other. They are forms of separation in a world of this and that. Their fate is death. The candle burns out. The sage goes cold. In death they exist without action. They have no will. They are at the mercy of the one who strikes a match. Their fate is tied to the match holder to return them to smoke and flame. In time, not even the one who strikes the fire can bring them back as their forms completely return to the dust of existence. Without form they are nothingness—only potential.
