The Language We Can’t Speak
Humanity’s secret is
The things we cannot write.
Words are a bridge
A subtle movement of ideas to connect the lost.
But the transcription of beauty
Stretches only so far T
he language of love
Her slender fingers, her soft eyes
The palpitations of eager hearts
And the hopeful directions of hands.
Hold humanity’s secret close,
For if we dive too deep and expose the fragility
Of what moves us in sacred reality,
Then the meaning of humanity drifts like
A leaf disintegrating into the sea of nothingness
There are emotions and simplicities
We cannot fully encase in words.
If we could, it would oughtfully be,
The devastation and collapse of society.
The House of Mirrors