Who knows?

by Robie Kulokivi of weretco

from The Olive Bird 

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear

 moonbeams striking on the windows.

In my chest,

a strange voice is awakened

 and a song plays inside me

a longing that is not mine.

They say that ancestors, dead before their time,

 with young blood still in their veins,

 with great passion in their blood,

 with the sun still burning in their blood

 come,

 come to continue to live

 within us

 their unfinished lives.

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear

 moonbeams striking on the windows.

O, who knows, soul of mine, in which chest you will sing

 you also, after centuries,

 in soft ropes of silence,

 on harps of obscurity - the drowned longing

and the pleasure of living torn? Who knows?

Who knows?

‘Silence’ by Lucian Blaga

Lucian Blaga (May 9, 1895 - May 6, 1961) The ninth son of a parish priest, Blaga grew to become one of Romania's foremost poets and philosophers. Born in Transylvania, his father died in 1908 leaving the family destitute and forcing Blaga to leave secondary school. Until the age of four he purportedly never uttered a word; a period of his childhood that he later described as, ‘under the sign of the incredible absence of word’ and ‘mute as a swan’.

by Charles Barnes of clbphoto

from Weibler Wire Sculpture