Written at Tso Rolpa, high altitude lake.
The sound of silence pervades the valley. It’s echoes drown out the distant hum of wind, the soft rasping scuffle of feet on rock. It is mirrored in those tiny ripples drifting across the lake’s surface. In the monumental, silent existence of the snow-blanketed mountain. In the soft drifting of wispy clouds beyond those peaks. In the mind, empty, filled with beauty, awe, wonder and humility. The silence echoes with a primeval power in this sacred space, kissing those who enter with it’s gentle might. This silence, this emptiness, came before us, and will be all that is left at the end.