Art of silence

Solid sugar cube
dissolving in the cup
waking up
feeling the weight of the dark
untold fireflies
and fallen leaves
furtively building up an oil painting
in this rainy night
charmed cats are drawn to the hearth
there is a ring
from the depth of some ramparts
emitting a glow pointing somewhere
which is not typical of diamonds
there is always a rainbow
where the wild herons rest
if forgiveness is an ocean
there would be waves around here
through spring, summer
fall and winter
bare stones that covet the sun
the moon and stars
turn into mud when it ends
when you can't see it
hydrangea is actually shy
pushing open the door of time
snowflakes pour out and fill
the ground
bracken cleansed by the river
once again faces the warm direction of sunshine
exposing those moldy marks undaunted
so no one would dare disturb the evolution
no one will disturb the symphony
but then
everything else looks like the despondency
of the linden tree
lost without a word
without a thought
the love that germinates
in the soil of the barren land
is no more than that
listening to the voice behind the woods
learning from the birds flying south
the butterflies heading towards the garden
if the tranquility can be exchanged
for growth
well then
let the silence of the lake
spread.