April 05, 2004
We've extended ourselves,
the rope       has already       been cut,
the words       reach only       so far.
Just as a sheet of paper can only
be folded seven times, there are
no words for this place:
words that cannot
have been lost,
stories that cannot
we are losing too
but in poetry         (in cognito,       in defense)
in a poem one can still find
for God, et demersa prius
hac visa luce resurgit.
Posted by delire at April 5, 2004 11:29 AM