Babbling in your sleep
Your fluttering eyes
Trace their way
Through the spindled lines of history
To where not even you can remember now,
When the trees whispered low
In hushed voices
Sounding like
The rain and roaring light,
Where blind men led each other
Further into darkness
And each thought was distilled
Through their despair.
They’re searching
For the deepest part,
The pith,
Tip toed on the destroying edge
Where one feeling falls deeply into another,
And here they plunge
Into the smallest certainty
Of your unexpected learning:
...........You
...will
...never
...understand.
Nothing of Origins, or purpose,
No answers to the crucial questions of being,
And all these huge things
Truly, they don’t matter.
Darling, you babbled brightly with this settling realisation
As it unveiled itself that night
Like the colours in a wet stone.
