The Great Silence

by Edith D. Tipple

The Great Silence calls
where no more is heard
the cry of a whippoorwill,
the gentle breeze through meadow grass,
or seen the sparkling mountain  brook.

Dissolved in the cliff of time,
all outward doors forever locked –
sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell –
turned within, sighted
only Silence, where all comes to rest.

The Great Silence calls
where all is not, and all is,
the womb of no-thing, vibrant with all,
all disappeared, there is no turning back
from The Great Silence, still.

 

EDITH DICKINSON TIPPLE lives in Santa Barbara, CA and has been a member of the Vedanta Society of Southern California since 1963. She is Editor of What the Disciples Said About It, Realizing God and A Challenge to Modern Minds and is a contributor to Prabuddha Bharata, Vedanta Kesari, Samvit, and American Vedantist. EDITHTIPPLE @GMAIL.COM

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One Response

  1. Nileen Putatunda says:

    Beautiful poem! Thank you.

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