“Hello Darkness My Old Friend — Image by kenne
“Hello, Darkness My Old Friend…”
“Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk to you again,”
is a line from the Simon and Garfunkel song that frequently streams
through my mind.
It is in those moments of darkness that I ponder what it is that continues to
influence the way I think, the way I perceive the world in which we live.
“Because a vision softly creeping left its seed, while I was sleeping,”
that I look back on the early formative days of my life, a time now
that seems as if I was sleeping. But the vision, which became the moral
fabric of my spirit and guiding light, was formed.
“And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence.”
A vision built on principles and truths that guide me, which today are preached,
only to become somebody else’s lies in the name of freedom.
How can we believe in freedom, let support systems that enslave some for the
freedom of others? – No one is truly free unless all are free.
“In restless dreams, I walk alone, narrow streets of cobblestone”
yet I remain restless as I walk through this land of dreams, with its narrow
streams of conciseness and watchful eyes.
“I turned my collar to the cold and damp when my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light,”
serving to numb the spirit, only to
“…split the night and touch the sound of silence.”
“And in the naked light, I saw ten thousand people, maybe more,”
none together, separated by their own silence, giving rise to more lies,
cultivated by and for fear.
“People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening,”
as the silence only serves to drown the anguish of the suffering to be replaced
by corporate voices. Let, many continue to
“…write songs that voices never shared, and no one dared disturb the sound of silence,”
in a propaganda system intended to cause people to feel helpless.
“ ’Fools!’ said I, ‘you do not know, silence like a cancer grows,”
in a terminal phase of human existence, where the only cure is
democracy and freedom. But for this cure to work, our basic institutions must be
under popular control, not that of a privileged controlling class.
“Hear my words that I might teach you, take my arms that I might reach you,”
for it is only the people who can impose moral principles on the gods of fear.
“But my words like silent raindrops fell… and echoed in the wells of silence. And
the people bowed and prayed to the neon gods they make,”
to show commitment to their gladiators, the gods of war.
“And the sign flashed out it’s warning,
In the words that it was forming,
And the sign said,
‘The words of the prophets are written
On the subway walls
And tenement halls.’
And whispered in the sound of silence.”
I apologize for any perceived misuse of the great lyrics from the
Simon and Garfunkel song, “Sounds of Silence.”
(First posted January 27, 2007 — Still pondering after all these years.)
— kenne
- The Sound of Silence (catlusso.wordpress.com)
- Hello darkness my old friend (deathbyshyness.wordpress.com)
- Why I Love Records (remixinglummis.wordpress.com)
Juvenile Anna’s Hummingbird (?) — Image by kenne
Broad-billed Hummingbird — Image by kenne
Panorama View From Blackett’s Ridge Trail — Image by kenne
Changing the Order of Things — Image by kenne
Even though I literally have thousands of photos, I have very few of my dad, so as I share information with Jean, words, more than photos will have to suffice. The few that I have were taken in 1952, when Bob and I went to live with Dad. 
