The Slowest Gravity

As you look at the page I look at a screen.

As you scan the words I search for them.

While you decode what is written,

I attempt to set down beauty.

And what is found is always less

Than what could be, and what could be

Is always less than what I hope for,

For I hope for perfection in all things.

As you scan the words I search for them.

I dredge up what I can from the vast dark well

That I call my soul.  I carry a reservoir of absence,

From which I shout incoherently in the unfathomable darkness.

While you decode what is written

I untangle constellations, rewire robins to speak Arabic.

I weave hurt into a warming blanket,

But beauty will not come.

Beauty will not come as I attempt

To set her down.  You can no less pin her

Than a ray of light hanging in smoke

Can be fixed to a wall.

While you decode what is written

I speak in haltering tones from my choked throat

Gasping final sentences.  You scan the words I have

Searched for.  We look at the page

and fall down it.



 This poem is taken from We r all one, we always win, 
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