This weekend, I remembered who I am.  It was all quite odd.  And who'd have that it would happen not while away, but while home in unknown places in my own city?  I certainly had not. 

I sat last night in silence, on my knees in a place I'd never been.  And I wanted to grow into that silence. 

How strange the power of silence to make us feel small in its confounds and long to be as big and wise and strong.  As all-encompassing.  To make us wants to spread out our arms and reach wide, and reach further.  To somehow fill that space we know we never could.  For what word could fit in silence?  And what hand touch it? 

How silence made me long to mature as it has in all its ancient years.