Silence That Defines

These words as unto written liquid pour forth.

None are they, but to desire only to be heard.

The silence herein is deafening as it defines itself.

I know not why this soul seeks to paint images with words.

Especially if they but render to one another and simply implode.

Paradoxes are they; too absurd; to incongruous not to be true .

So why dash this heart against the old graying stone?

Why, oh why, when whimsical delusion frolic’s on teeters edge in my head.

Should not youthful ignorance return, for today’s reality holds no clue?

Therefore within the heart that dreams seep tiny vapors of greater things.

Comes now of this my spirit which knows not day or night.

This flailing truth I know that forever searches for that eternal light.

But the silence…it’s deafening…the silence it defines itself.

J. Allen Wilson © 3/2008