.
What comes after this,
when the perfect word
is penned?
What will they do with us
when there’s nothing left
to be said?
Every syllable uttered,
every turn of phrase,
every subtle inflection;
how will we spend our days?
.
I thought we had words
for a lifetime,
but it turns out
we still have empty page.
How did we end up this way?
Staring at each other,
with nothing left to say.
.
Filled the universe
with lines of code.
Ideas and fantasies we wrote.
Didn’t know how far we’d go
or that the script
would corrode.
Thought we were building worlds,
but our own lives
couldn’t keep a hold.
We stood there
without a word to describe
the fires on the threshold.
This story is so old,
I’m not even sure
that there’s enough left of it
to be told.
.
Our words run out,
the whole world doubts
and we begin to run from shadows.
We’ve spoken
every single word,
and now they all ring hollow.
.
What could I write down
that will speak to you
now and forever?
What words
would bring you pleasure?
What ideas
would you treasure?
Or, are we done speaking?
Are you finished reading?
Has it all lost all meaning?
I keep finding things
to fill the space
between the silence
and the ending.
.
.
HG – 2021
