The Books of My Numberless Dreams

The Hills Were Joyful Together

Posted on: December 18, 2006

The night speaks with a thousand whispers, but a single voice…the wind comes and questions, and passes on…the acclamation of the stars does not disturb the stillness…so it is with the night…brother, are you there, waiting your turn in the darkness beyond the door?…you will be announced with the others…our ghosts will keep company at the board…will applaud and be silent and wait with the waiting companions…each will await his turn and be quietly astounded…the night calls with its thousand whispers that is a single voice.

Anonymous in his cloak of darkness each waits with the night…the thunderous acclamation of the stars does not disturb the stillness…what waits with such aplomb as the brother outside the door?…all the guests are gathered beneath the same anonymous shadow…each answers to his name, and all with one voice…do not be deceived by the multiplicity of sounds that ring and jingle like laughter…do not be dismayed by the myriad murmurs that possess the night…we halt on the same tread and are quietly astounded…death speaks with a thousand whispers, but a single voice.

Roger Mais

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