Is sorrow the true wild?
And if it is—and if we join them—
your wild to mine—what's that?
For joining, too, is a kind of annihilation.
What if we joined our sorrows, I'm saying.
I'm saying: What if that is joy?
The music finishes.
It is the quiet of night
Broken by the ticking of a clock,
the hiss of rain,
the growling of a distant car.
The silence of this interval
is not for doing,
not for resting
But to wonder in;
A vulnerable silence
given back to us.