On Silence


My eyes don't see but hear
You in between
These dangling notes that climb
From line to line,
As the hands of time
Compel each ivory dip
Or slur
As a stream of
Melodies swirling
In tip-toes on the floor
Bending and swaying
To sky outreaching
Note to note;
Tone to tone.
Without you
There is no key in between
And the notes would
Splatter in space;
And the dancer, its toes
Missing the right floor
Will stagger and fall
And the hand that moves you
Will never find
The life that's in-between
For life that's in-between
Will cease to be.
Without the notes
The music remains
To be
A dream
That may find meaning
In between the keys
Something the eye would miss
But the heart will cherish,
For with all of these
Of slurs and sharps
In life's clef of temporariness,
Only you which these eyes can't find
Wins the true encore of time.

---Bron Joseph C. Teves, 12/31/2007, Center for Spiritual Learning, Tagaytay City


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