Ungraspable
Ungraspable A name—that's all I've got. Born in a hollow, Floating miles like dandelion seeds Until I settled down In a Dream—the space where angels go To rest their wings. Years ago, I stared at blank walls Until I could hear the sound of my mind Projected on them. Silent walls like pages that could not have been turned Playgrounds for ideas to jingle and merge. I wanted to be real, in the eyes of my shadows, Staring at me from the distance, But nothing fits in the body— smell, flesh, or voice— Ghostly mind haunting the walls, the pages Of an elusive existence. I tried to reach out To the flickering shapes of the Unwritten, Unspoken, Untouchable, Ungraspable, That slippery echo Of the name On a book that has not been written Yet.