Another word

It doesn't stop the time alloted to be there when others are clotted with time that cannot grasp the thought, the nought that passes into... my hands that work, my legs that stand, that understand the flowing ground. Reach out to speak the ideas forming, unsounded words that creep like morning to other rhythms, other thoughts, stay still the wind in my fingers caught, to try to say the impasse, speak... don't speak, or unspoken be the thought unheard by flesh the ever-present, memory gliding, gilding, gold glinting building, upward outward underneath, I cannot say the words that speak. I fear the lie that I must say, when utter sounds into the day, and in the dark the meanings mutter, when will meanings only matter. Catch it to hold, behold the drops that fell, unseen, undone, the attempt to tell the dying sun, the last light brightest, last breath lightest, permanence is permanent, always last, forever ending. The ghost jeering at the distraction formed by trinkets adorning yesterday the other way, unleft, ungone, the little known. See the tiny little light, that tiny light in shadows bright, another trick that looked away, unseen again that vast array so small when distance is the time. Arrive there not, that yesterday, where mindless plots will fester grey, arrive here never, not then or now, to see the future words somehow.

Golden forest (progress photo)