When the room is filled with the emptiness of noise, the walls creak with the overloading notion that silence covers your every step.
And each footstep, marked in humble solemnity, graces the cold stone floor, moving with such grace, such swiftness that the motion in itself becomes a joyous symphony of ebb and flow, bend and turn.
Around each corner lies another place of solitude; in that niche, that cramped space silence brings freedom. Freedom from the constraints, the demands of life. No voice is heard, only lips move raptly, creating shapes, creating words that bring the cries of the heart to the feet of their Creator.
Each silent prayer is a loud thanksgiving, a heartfelt song of praise, an acknowledgement of need, of humility, of love.
No voice is heard by those that pass by, with their cameras and their audio guides.
But the silent speaker’s heart is filled with inexplicable joy as they chat with their loving God, as they listen to His voice, as they receive blessing upon blessing.
No silence can ever mask their rapture.