The Long Listening Below

Beneath our legs, anything ancient listens. It doesn't talk in language or representations, in the lower hum of tectonic dishes, in the slow move of continents, in the manner roots investigate the darkness without eyes. We walk across its skin, never understanding how heavy its memory runs. Every feed of sand has broken from a mountain. Every decline of rain was once section of a hurricane nobody remembers. The Planet recalls every thing — it really does not speak it aloud.

Their style is hidden alone — the type of silence that echoes. You are able to sense it when the breeze dies and the woods stand entirely still. You are able to hear it in the stillness after mastery, when actually birds seem to pause. That silence isn't empty. It is full of thought, complete old, full of presence. The Planet is not quiet because it's asleep. It's quiet because it is listening — to us, to the sky, to itself.

We are loud. We load the air with motors, sirens, comments, audio, machines. But nothing of this noise sinks into the ground. The World listens not with ears but with patience. It waits for what employs our sound — what remains when our buildings fall, when our signals fade, when the satellites burn up in the upper sky. And when the period comes, it will still be here — however turning, however blooming in places untouched, still whispering in ways just the breeze and the roots can hear.

We think of World as strong, as unmoving, as something we stay on. But it's more than that. It's a human body — living, shifting, breathing in time also gradual for all of us to see. It does not shout, it does not beg. It endures. And because calm energy lies a power much greater than fire or ton: the energy of something that has nothing to prove. Something that has currently survived the start of the Planet, the demise of woods, the stop after meteors.

This is not just land. It is not only stone and water. It is a keeper. A cradle. A storage that will not forget. Anywhere deep under, under the stress and stone, it however murmurs the story of how everything began.

However it won't ever reveal in words.

We must learn how to hear in silence.