Write one or two paragraphs of prose about any subject and then write a poem that says the same thing (using different words). Conversely, write a poem about any subject and then write one or two paragraphs of prose that say the same thing (using different words).
How can one know a sound a silent whistle makes?
Simply by noting the docile dog yelping in its wake.
How many more pitches are too high to hear?
How many voiceless words fall silent on deafened ears?
“Small is my theme—yet has it the sweep of the universe.” –Walt Whitman
How do you know that a silent whistle actually makes a sound? One simple confirmation is observing dogs react to the whistle being blown. We see that the dog perceives a sound that we cannot perceive (neglecting the use of instrumentation; science is the father of disenchantment) and despite the sound’s imperceptibility we do not deny its existence. In light of this instance, there are bound to be others like it. The atheist sees the reactions of religion and prayer and still swears these people yelp at nothing—(I disclaim the allocation of attempting to prove the existence of God or to validate religious doctrines; it is merely the curious juxtaposition that I find important, that, and the idea that even in this all’s-said-and-done epoch there are still things unknown, still things unknowable.)
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”