Untitled Intro

[Avant-Garde Effects] Sitting on steps, the topmost There's a pasture before me Where the brief shadows of small trees are plain to see at 2 a.m Where the moon lights the back of a head Bowed in respect of all that is I'm not sure I want to talk anymore Maybe there is something I could say a poet would feel Maybe there's no need A true poet already sits beside me Head bowed to the moonlight I am at once alone and inside everything Even in the den of the world there is silence that sings of reverence There is a space that cannot be described In that space words are noise: Substantiated evidence of distraction, a step behind now An understandable preoccupation of the mind's attempt at solving a mystery So I am not sure if I want to talk anymore Some days my heart is heavier than I knew I could bear Some days it floats beyond gravity's reach And words are heavy To use them lets loose an anchor that only proves the science of causality I know these things Though the knowing mostly serves as a reminder of an absence Maybe only momentary, or Until the moon shines once more on a poet's bowed head So I am not sure I want (much) to talk There is no sayable clarity No translation in large print There is only this moment And I live inside it alone But look upon the world with eyes that say what can't be said [Avant-Garde Effects]