you cannot say

you cannot say what has to be felt first

words, they come like ushers after the event

to clean up, to escort, to appraise, to appease

there is no medium of earth

not saturated with human’s feelings

even the lava 

is quickly taken for human cause

if I find any two surfaces touching

they are speaking about us

by grind, by shriek, by hum, by noise

there is no wait involved

but constant is as shape shifters allow

recognition is on the other hand over brow

 

loving as an antidote, as a portrayal

as an accomplice or as an anecdote

is lost in translation

from you to me or me to you

we are not cuttings seeking existence

we are seed and soil

seeking to express light 

as reflected through us

we are each some of ground

some of kernel

across the fertileness, we these beings

 

you have left breath in the megaphone

after the sounds has passed

that which is done

with carelessness and abandon

leaves the crumbs of in-breath essence

beyond the cause or carriage

I know of them in the well

and know of them in passing

they are the applause 

of the journey undisclosed

they are the essential-ease

yet unrevealed 

to the untrained sense of passage

 

your silence speaks volumes

but cannot conceal the fragrance of you

I am an array 

in collective embrace to your sky

small deaths come and go 

with each breath

my violin, away from your touch     

plays faintly

my song, is your lyrics codified

sung from deep within,

unexpectedly with muted but crisp refrains

is bellowed beneath and blinded bygones

yet sung 

beyond the appearance of this solitude

you have an ear for it

where we are the acoustics

of what plays as us . . .

you cannot say