It’s a timeless moment,
a sharp intake of knowing, a breath of awareness.
The final word comes, either heard or read,
and with it the resolution of a thought
which resonates at a tone too deep for humans to hear –
maybe heard only by sperm whales –
but which we can feel, and which we know rings
a truth truer than the truth known before.
My eyes linger at the white space
on the page after the final period –
Or I sit in the quiet after Garrison’s voice
falls away into broadcast silence.
I stay in that silence.
I stay for a timeless moment,
seven seconds of stunned silence,
in that place where poetry lives.