A ripple in the distance calls,
Softly falling on this stranger’s ears.
I feel it dripping on my brain already,
Inviting me to drain assumption.
Soon my consciousness is saturated,
Color morphs from pigment to expression.
Of all creation I have known the least emotion.
My mind is bound up by language.
The deepest stirring of my heart has no description,
Nor do the darkest corners of my afflictions.
Instead of giving mindless definitions,
I want to undefine my mind.
I don’t think life is like a book
Because the paper has no lines.
As soon as I begin a word,
I’ve begun a lie.


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