Because words
are dull,
heavy,
old as stones—
but stone
can be cut
and formed
and used
to make bridges.
And those bridges
which connect us,
our best instructors
taught us
to call metaphor.
*
Because there,
in the shadow,
in the shade
of our doubt,
grows
the carrot
we will follow
through another day's
wasteland.
*
Because
the light which bathes the world
comes in curves
tens of millions of years long,
so complex
and absurd
it'd ruin us
to perceive it.
Yet—
the derivative of light
is heat,
and heat's
is scent,
and scent's, capricious
taste in melody;
for instance,
the accelerating velocity
of birdsong.
*
that exists
in the world
to us, still isn't nearly
as good
(or as much)
as the music
that, as of yet,
doesn't.
