All Is Still

We imagine that as the night dissolves into
another day and we submit to the imperative
to rest mind and body exhausted of their
energy and we of useless attempts to remain
aware and awake, that all around us in our
quiet, still house, slumbers too. As we rest,
we give rest to all those extensions of our
desires, to await our call to serve another day.

Yet the house, while huddling recumbent
in darkness emits its own relentless aura;
sound that expresses its purpose, yet melds
into an amorphous humming orchestration
conducted beyond our unaware senses; we,
oblivious to all but our slumbering subconscious
dipping into the mysterious folds of our
sleeping, dreaming brain's neocortex.

As the night wanes and dawn sends hesitant
fingers of muted light to cast shadows where
there were none, and day sits on the threshold
of time fleeing into the future, sleeping minds
are rudely torn from dreams and clanging
nightmares by a high-pitched, agonized wail
signalling the disruption of electrical current.

And then true silence occurs, as furnace,
refrigerator, communication cables and
warning devices suffer an interruption in
their quasi-silent function. Power has been
interrupted in its transmission and a
catastrophic outage prevails. When waking
minds suddenly recognize what silence
in its vast, blank chasm, sounds like.