The substance that my heart wishes to impart
Has no words
No melody
No clumsy contrivances
That do it justice
But still, it is
And knows no fathoming.
The deeper that I dig
And bend
A crane my neck
And flex my tongue against
The impossibility of encapsulating it,
So I'm left with binding, biting
Edges
And demands for yet another circumnavigation,
Round the bend of sanity
And back again,
Obsessively inspecting,
Poking,
Prodding,
Tasting,
Testing and
Reflecting,
'til a cobblestone cadaver
Is imposed upon my knowing,
And all for sake of showing it,
I've made an other
Of my own spirit.
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