s i l e n c e

There is a mystery too deep for words;
the silence of the dead comes nearer to it,
Being wisest in the end. What word shall hold
the sorrow sitting at the heart of things,
The majesty and patience of the truth.
Silence will serve; it is an older tongue:
The empty room, the moonlight on the wall.
Speak for the unreturning traveller.
-john hall wheelock