A hush widened in me, soft as a bird's wings at rest when in glides in to land in the tree's highest branches. I trust when the wind is asleep that soon it will be blowing in my face again. When it gets quiet in my heart's deep hall, I walk in the light and truth, though I cannot see clearly. The great stillness guides my boat into a safe harbor. I am home to the unknown that I have always known and knew. Silence is slowly moving and touching every cell in my body. When all my broken pieces have calmed and fallen into rest and sleep, between each breath is stillness.
The small snail comes out of nowhere and slowly moves forward and back again. Antennas are aware of life all around. The large blade looks enticing plump; it's the wonderful first green of spring. The wet grass kisses and every moment is new for a snail that lives for a while in humility country. The heavy house is the true reality of all that is fragile. Meanwhile, the snail's path is long. The blade has withered; is there nothing to understand? Nothing to lose and no goal to reach. The snail traveling from nowhere to nowhere, slowly forward and back again.