The world goes on beyond words,
but words too go on beyond the world,
toward the clashing abyss of meaninglessness.
Can we tear through their spider’s web
and fly like the bird of prey whose gaze
pierces the distance?
Whoever does so — does he fall silent, listen, know?
Perhaps we have never heard
the true murmur of the stream
nor the dancing whistle of a sun that has reached
its limit.
Perhaps we do not know silence,
but supply it instead, like theatrical drowning men
holding their breath
to let themselves be pierced by the din.

The sinister privilege of imagination
is to make up for what has been laid waste. To yearn, with every mouthful,
for what has already been digested.
Not knowing how to keep silent,
nor how, in a million words,
to say nothing.
When all is said in a single sigh,
to listen to silence is the contradiction
of those who savour the ineffable.

Laura Urbieta, in Anthology of the Discarded, p. 36