We, the breathing vessels,
Occupied, with a name
Occupied with some purpose
Hate being alone, hate being empty
But what are we more than a gust of wind
What are we other than a breath of air
Other than the little endless emptiness inside
Yes we are filled, with the deep empty ocean
Sinking in who knows what,
who knows how deep
we dwell on the islands called ‘meaning’
created to forever stay and occupy,
to never again explore the empty waters and measure its depths
who knows what dwells in there,
who knows what surfaces the mysterious meanings
it is heard, ‘the explorers’ who dive in never come back with ‘words’
never come ashore to explain what’s beneath
they lose the ‘language’ of us, ‘the meaning dwellers’
it is better that the sorcery is left unexplored
better leave the questions unanswered
and forever remain the ‘meaning dwellers’ of the breathing vessels…
but can we?
Thankfully,
We are doomed……
