two silences

Silence is uncomfortable
because of what lies underneath.
The topics we don't want to broach.
The treaties we'd be loathe to breach -
agreements forged in silences
that came in after cracks and storms.
We know now better than to sail
where bitter lightnings flash and warn
behind the eyes we're trying to love.

But love grows bitter everywhere
it's been agreed love cannot go.
Love knows that it could triumph there,
if only it would be allowed.

Love cannot stand such lack of faith
- when nothing is unconquerable!
That nothing's going to stop us now.
That nothing's going to take our place.

But silences like yours and mine
are quite a different crock of fish.
Uncomfortable, they aren't at all -
just pauses for reflection, and
appreciation of each dish
served up in neverending course
- made up of everyone and thing,
cosmically or locally sourced,
prepared with effortless aplomb,
considered individually
and made to sing.

And never wrong -
except that we were entertained.
We fall to laughter at the lapse,
and lapse into a silence, that
has never yet been strained.

We eat the universe by turns,
in perfect leisure, at our ease
as if we know I'll never find
the end of you, or you of me.