A Whisper Between Me and the Waterfall

 A Whisper Between Me and the Waterfall

I went to the waterfall

not to speak

but to be drowned

in something older than words.

It was already speaking

before I arrived

a wild, endless sentence

falling into itself.

I stood there,

a small question

wrapped in a body,

listening.

“Tell me,” I whispered,

though I did not know

what I wanted to hear.

The waterfall laughed

not in mockery,

but in a language

that does not separate joy from noise.

You ask for answers,

it seemed to say,

but can you hear

without translating?

Its voice was not a voice

it was a presence,

crashing and dissolving

at once.

I tried to understand,

but meaning slipped

through my fingers

like mist.

So I stopped.

And in that stopping,

something softened

a silence inside me

began to listen.

The waterfall did not change,

but I did.

Its roar

became a whisper.

Not because it grew quieter

but because I grew empty.

Now there was space

for it to enter,

not as sound,

but as being.

And in that shared silence,

we met

not as two,

but as a single, flowing

unansweredness.

मुकेश ,,,