in the redwood groves, where there is only silence, where no voice speaks,
where lessons are learned, we walk and look not to the sky, but the ground,
mindful feet counting out the paces that are patience, and will to peace.
in the canopy, all around, there is life, and even in the silence, noise,
soft squirmings as the earth is turned by humble creatures,
whirrs, chitters, and scuttlings as the things found too small to be noticed
go about their duty of making redwood groves possible.
some say that in sunlight, silence is most severe. but in truth,
it is not the silence that is severe, only the mind that would think it so,
for silence, like all things, is empty… only silence knows without knowing
and thus, need not as much as whisper, nor break the illusion
for which some eyes turn, and seek the sky