Search for Silence, Solitude and Stone

It has been years since I saw that poem by Neruda on a scrap of paper, an e-mail, posted on a notice board, outside the school library. It spoke in vivid tiny metaphors of silence, solitude and carried an imagery of stone, a sinking stone in black and white, in soundless movement through linear reflections in water, shadow and light. At least that is what I carry of it now, a lost poem of my now personal, intimate imagery. And this is how I search for it. I search for poems with stones, or silence, or solitude, knowing that finding one, will find me all the rest. It is for days when I remove myself from the world, to go seeking this poem. On such days, I hide in narrow aisles between bookshelves in a library, or lose myself in the poetry section of a crowded bookstore, or even sink myself into the well thumbed collection of Neruda's works that I treasure, looking for this poem, checking once again that it is not there, looking for wispy clues in pictures invoked, for when the poet sank into solemn stillness that he could have conveyed to me from a notice board.