POEM BY ANTONIS FOSTIERIS
Our Silence is Made of Voices
Our words and ideas
aren’t for the ears of others.
Their path is circular
endless
invisible
inscribed inside us
from the heart to the brain
and reverse.
It has exquisite circular meanders
fully lit sauntering stoas.
Our words and thoughts charge,
press into the interior space
and our words, whispers or verse,
we hear our internal music’s sounds
branching to depths to feed us
adding our innumerable voices
to our external inexpressible silence.
Libros Libertad 