The Way

Let’s think about the world in this way and that. Let our hands be still and feet lay flat. It doesn’t matter at all which way we go, which way we throw, to whom our thoughts eventually flow. And flow they will, if only to fill that void of utterly substantial but lacking thrill. But perhaps the sound of silence can make a pitch—rich in tension and some unmentioned poignant light. For who is to say, really, what is the delight? The delight of day possibly may just be the time I get to say, “Hey, that is the way.”