Sometimes I am surrounded.
Just out of my reach, they lay heavy
Floating
Ideas and sensations
Things without words
That make my pen feeble and
Speechless.
If only
I could find the language for
Things without words
I know that Truth would be spoken
And beauty beheld.
But
Maybe
Some things are most beautiful in their
Absence
Some Truths are only known by our
Unknowing.
I will sit very still
These heavy things making me light
Floating
Soaking in my unknowing
At peace with absence
And my feeble pen.
2 comments:
I love this! A perfect description of that feeling. :-)
Rae - you are a poet like your brother. I am moved by this - you say some things that can't be said rightly, but you get darned close. I am loving the emerging person who is you.
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