You taught me gentleness has a name

You taught me gentleness has a name.

0.

Silence is intentionally gentle, privately gentle. this way of knowing softness is not to accept stillness uninvited. It is to send off a letter that arrives one year later, of an occasion that will happen in another year. How intentional, how knowing. Silence gentleness cannot hold you close when you are in between sobs and heaving out rejected thoughts. It observes, it waits. It knows that you will extend your hand once ready. It knows your eyes lingers to the peripheral where it waits patiently. You see, silence is patient. It can wait for many millennia, knowing you will turn your view fully at it once ready. It recognizes you in all your forms, and you can’t fail to recognize it too. Silence is present, it is heavy. It is an absolute being. So, its form is recognizable even though, it manages to hide in corridors, staircases, at turns of sidewalks. You wonder the type of gentleness silence would give, but here silence smiles at your oblivion. It is not here to give gentleness but share it with you. It places its form to your heart and fills its entity with the warmth of your heartbeat. It leans into your face and places its form on your soft cheeks, indenting and concaving to every wrinkle or smile line it can enter, sharing the memories of their formation with you. Lastly, silence stops at your throat, it brings in the way it is private, and shows it to you. The ways it seeks your gentleness in this unknown form you didn’t know you had. But it saw this in you. You stay there as you observe it take in all that is you. In a unity of gentleness.