what he remembers most was that time <br />when he asks for a glass of water which was denied him <br /> <br />he was angry at first <br />hysterical about his thirst his view on death that comes like a black horse from far <br />but he calmed down ultimately knowing that nothing happens anyway <br />despite his scream <br />the wind is still the wind that goes out from the hold of the mountain <br />not ever minding his situation <br />the trees are cruel too taking care only of their own roots <br /> <br />and so he grabbed silence <br />he coiled with the ropes of indifference <br />and take himself for a rock beside a cliff <br /> <br />and then they look for him <br />regretting perhaps what they have forgotten such a value for a rose <br /> <br />but then he has no eyes as identifying marks and no matter how <br />they search <br />despite his presence <br />they could not find him <br /> <br />now they are all crazy like the tribes driven out from Babel <br />and he simply watched them all <br /> <br />in silence and indifference <br />they murmur and cry out in the darkness of their souls <br /> <br />it is time now he says to reap the fruits of his labor.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fruit-of-his-silence-and-indifference/
