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.