give me words hard hewn from granite grief,
scented with wisdom locked away, moth eaten and holy,
give me a soft face, scoured by salt, and ready to laugh,
weathered by many others, turned upwards ready for light.

give me grace filled silence to hear redundant despair,
patience to stay caught only in a friend's care,
give me a new words to share, one upon one
until a house is built where tears are welcome and pain no more.

soap....

Soap is the dirt we buy. We introduce it to the dirt we have, and the two dirts are so glad to see each other they come out and mix! They swim together in the warm pleasurable water and at just the right moment, the washer lifts the cloth of our true being free of both soap and dirt. Mystical poetry and other practices may function this way, as soap that dances with what disturbs our clarity. Then at some moment they drop away and leave us clean, ready to be worn again.

Rumi

Let a deep silence rest on your shoulders,
It carves an invisible felt silhouette,
That marks a space where divine light can flicker,
Before sleep and cash flows smoother.

Let a deep silence prickle your senses,
Another sits still feet away while whispered words,
Struggling for truth, slowly thin the air,
Until silence steals our masks away.