Your silent language hailed me from beyond the seas and offered me its wings above the roar of the angry waters. I heard your call though it was silent but ever so expressive. Your silent lips remained as still as the midst that hangs over the valley, but your emotions conveyed all the complexities of your busy heart. Your utterances confused that which has been determined, while your silence is still the language of the spirit, that messenger of truth that forever prevails.
Our expressions are the windows to our hearts. Truth, with gavel in hand, sits at the bench judging whether the eyes are in unison with the words being spoken. It is easy to tell a lie, but hard to cover it up. Our silent language reveals the truth and all its revisions of it.