A great white silence

"Words, words words, I'm so sick of words! I get words all day through--first from him, now from you---is that all you blighters can do?"

-My Fair Lady

Words are my life at present. 

I speak words. I dream words. I sing words. Heck...if the vegetable soup comes around I end up eating words too. I listen to words, (and in a large family with 66% females, you get a lot of them.) I exchange words online, and at present I have been hard at work chasing the right words down alleys, beating them over the head, and making them behave. And as if that weren't enough, in my spare moments I read words.
Mama and I spent an hour and a half the other night searching for a few short words. We were writing a query letter to an agent and we had the thesaurus out, rummaging for that one perfect word. An hour and a half. For what amounted to a half-dozen words at best. That ended up being well worth the while as you'll see if you pop over to The Inkpen Authoress {my other lair, peoples} and read about it.

Tonight Mama was giving me some directions, filling me in on plans for the rest of the week..."casting vision" so to speak. TotNess-Boy {Levi} was babbling his own words on top of that, and I do believe my face gained a glazed expression, though I tried to ward it off. After this incomprehensible day of words I took up my Revision and Self-Editing and was reading about how to further pound my words so that they looked presentable.
This last deluge of words {though very important ones} microwaved my poor brain. I managed to extract some semblance of meaning from Mama's conversation. But through the whole, all I longed for was...what was it? And then the words came over me quietly and without being drilled as from a wedge of stone:

I long for a great white silence.

Have you ever heard a great white silence? I believe I have. At least the idea is so familiar to me that I think I ought to have heard it. Perhaps what I mean by a "great white silence" is simply a total absence of words.
Words in my mind and on my lips and pouring out of my fingertips as I frantically type and try to drag another thousand words out of a story that is turning tables on me. An absence of every thought that clamors and every background noise that needles and every song that pounds in my head even as I try to ignore it.

A great white silence.

And then I pause here a moment and realize that great white silence is outside my window right now...

 It has decorated itself with cricket-song and the murmur of laughter in the tree-boughs as the breeze blows through.

 It is cool with the flavor of autumn and dark as silk pinned here and there with stars to keep it from falling down.

It is a dark silence--merciful and enveloping and full with an emptiness that I need after this day of jargon and writing and blogging and speaking and singing and laughing and chatting and talking and reading and thinking.

It is a silence sullied by no over-eager moon, no lowering clouds, no thing that is unusual in any way, save for its rarity.

A great white silence in the pristine night.

Perhaps I ought to go out and enjoy it.