Not a word, yet they resonate
echoing in chambers of silence,
turning corners of past alleys,
whispering thresholds of lost dimensions.
The cup, I mean
that coffee mornin', it waited
on the windowsill, paused time
embraced molasses thoughts.
I thought about earlier train stations,
labyrinthine passages
where footsteps etched musical novellas,
heard only by yesterday's curious air.
click to break these pharaohs' hearts
meshed across deserted plains,
clouded illusions tethered by
truths uncarved, like stone
a poignant passage read
backwards, where the
ending swallows its own beginning,
where memories softens reality
between us, were forgotten songs,
but the melodies aren't lost
not until we ceased to listen
fully suspended, unheard
"Would they marvel at invisible papers scattered over an illusory desk?"