It enables too much.
We hear what may not be said and listen to what isn’t there.
Our thoughts become deafening and take over, they force and steer and consume.
We notice what we otherwise take for granted and mistake clarity for panic, tranquility for terror.
There is no space in silence for anything but ambiguity.
We’re crowded in emptiness.
It’s as dark as it is golden.
Because it forces us to know ourselves.