Describing the indescribable – attempt three (Aug 2010)

13 Nov

I went for a walk today
and, almost home
I came across a sensation
one that I can hold
but I can’t call it anything
for it is like…

only… there’s something
foreign in it for me

– all I can say is
love… something
oh not a thing, but, hmm…

it’s like I have a beautiful
dark-wood bookshelf
tall and sturdy
it’s polished and carved
stately and inviting
and I want to fill it with books
only, I don’t’ have any books
no books to fill such a beautiful space

yes it’s like that… maybe
or it’s like I have the most precious
set of texts
lovingly bound and desirously tactile
and I hold them with such warmth
and affection and I see them
all squarely and neatly stacked
hovering in the air
as if waiting for a bookshelf

and as long as my joy
at this cargo is present
they stay there hovering

yet as soon as I slide from that state
(like maybe I think
I want a bookshelf
to hold all this in place)
the books crumple to the floor

yeah… it’s like that
like both of these
at the same time
and without the other


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