Glaciers

Impressively I have an even shorter prose poem for you this week... Its a few years old now, some of you will have seen it before.

Glaciers are silent places. many people talk about being struck dumb with awe, but there is more than just that. The silence will not be broken. not merely voiceless on the glacier, but thoughtless. The silence rages within and without the beholder. Glaciers eat sound.... No, they eat the souls of sounds, suck them down to the cold cold depths. There is indeed tremendous sound, but that sound is soulless, cold, and will allow no interruption. The crash of cracking ice, disintegrating under its own weight, the subsonic grind of ever slowly ever moving ice, the crack of splitting ice, and the ever blowing wind. What do voices calling names and commands hope to accomplish? The casual conversations, and warm background noise of forests, streams, and other scenes of pleasant hikes do not exist and cannot survive on the frozen wastes.