Every night, under the faint constellations of the twilight, there sit many nyctophiles in search of solace by summoning their ancient state of silence. To them, silence isn’t just a feeling, but an emotion. An emotion embedded in every layer of their body, their soul, as if their skin is pierced by a sharp dagger, it would bleed black, dark, melancholic blood. Let me take you back to the times when hourglasses were shedding their grains and clocks were ticking loud enough but you couldn’t see or hear them. Floating into your mother’s womb; your eyes closed and arms wrapped around your own tiny chest, you were away from this worldly chaos. You stayed in that silent, dark womb for nine months or maybe less if your mother’s water broke before the date of your arrival in this world. Ravishing on the tranquility, away from all the clamoring, layer by layer your body was built, in silence, away from the sight of any kind; in sheer secrecy.
Every time when the waning crescent takes its last breath and the new moon is born, at that night, the universe reconciles the inner peace with the outer silence. When the twinkle of moonlight is nowhere to be heard and the glimmer of the constellations is mild, silence blows its horn, summoning all at peace. The Renaissance of human nature takes place with the labor of Luna. The emanating moon ravishes on the silence inside our chests and with a sharp gleam, a flashback of our tiny arms wrapped around our body, eyelids glued together by skin, ears tucked inwards and floating in the complete vacuum; body curled into a bean hits the back of our minds. Shuddering our heads, we stand in awe, heads up towards the sky, eyes closed as were initially. It feels like that same, dark vacuum; the starry world at night where we stand alone in the solace of silence. The silence there was, and Silence is all there is.
I could literally hear the sound of my dreams shattering, life colliding and circumstances and experiences pounding against the walls, but silence lasts like forever because it emerges from the inside, from under the layers of our skin, pores of our body and shreds of our flesh.
Silence is an emotion that can never die, it is always there right inside us. In the silence, we find solace because it is when we can be our best versions and ponder on the spontaneity of our emotions and thoughts. Silence is mostly associated with night and commonly synonymized with peace, and thenceforth, I believe both share a deep connection.
Without an earthly interruption, away from all the worldly jangles, we standstill as the universe grants us the voice of silence. Some of us, who dwell in nights, either by staring at the Milkyway, strolling under the dark sky, or dancing to the rhythm of the night, might know about this strange feeling of sweet ecstasy. It may sound like an illusion or a made-up fiction story to most of the party animals out there, but loners and midnight dwellers can all feel it inside them. This feeling is when something clutches our stomach softly, and all of a sudden the world freezes and all we could hear is the sound of breeze hushing on the highways miles away from where you stand. It is like a dancing hurricane emerging somewhere far behind.
Tranquility nests in our heart and it beats louder than usual, synchronizing its every beat with the rhythm of the fading twilight. We become so full of our ecstatic feelings, raw emotions and purity of self that an orgasm of ecstasy ascends us to the highest point of pleasure. The universe sheds a tear of joy, constellation contracts and expands wildly when Luna takes birth and shines the brightest terminating our ecstatic hearing of silence.