An Essay By Al N.ReflectionsAs I sit here listening to silence, I think of men before me. Alone - with only myself and the echoes of reflective thought, I begin to wonder if I am the only one who can feel the stillness of the quiet. Surely, if you listen close, their voices you too will hear Some of weeping, some of laughter, but all with cries of despair. Of course there are many here with me and many more to come But, it's those before me I ponder on wondering - wondering - not who they were portrayed to be, but who they really were. A friend once told me "If these walls could talk, oh the stories they would tell". How true for - Every life is a story and the paint on these walls is only decorative; it cannot cover the story being told - It cannot cover the sound of footsteps that lead to nowhere - It cannot hide the tears of a crying heart nor can it hide the pain, sorrow and despair. There will come a day when I will no longer be here to feel the still quiet. But, somehow I am comforted in knowing that I will break that stillness and will no longer sit here listening to the silence of men before me, because my story will be over and I will be with them. For now though, the quietness weighs heavy in my soul and I am alone - with only myself and the echoes of my reflective thought. Al Nadey, California |