(no subject)

There is a tuneless buzzing in my head.

It is the sound of sunlight on water, fractured fire-red and white. A shattered mirror that shows the world burning and the peace that settles me when I see it. Listen to the hollow space in your soul, because this is where language empties out and all the meaning is strung like glass beads.

Ready to spill.

But when they spill, across the page, through the air, flying like bullets, like kisses, like black feathers, curling ink, milk in coffee. When they spill, somehow they smash, dull, crease, flatten out. Meaning shimmers away and you are left with a mess, a blood-stained, mascara-smeared, mundane little tragedy. 

And I bounce back to the mirror, back to the tuneless buzzing and slash my hands through the waves. Words flash, silver fish, darting in beauty but the shape is smeared by the water. And I look, and I look, and I look while my hands paw uselessly. They dart up to the sun and the bodies blacken and burn.

Meaning is but a moment, a slash, a flash, a seeping. Happy tears, the cool, clear, frozen grief that smears and fractures the world until for a moment, a moment, you see it as it truly is.

And I want, I want, I want to share this second, this moment, this endless timeless flash of a second, so you feel my heart and share my soul and for a moment we are the world and the world is us and all things are as they should be. 

But as I reach out, as I open my mouth, as the words dart into song, into light, into ink, into a fixed lasso with nothing more than a definition, a history, a culture, a context, a rhythm, a cadence, an accent. These words dart towards you and I watch them change, mid-flight, colours glow, fade, edges stream away, I see your history, your culture, your context, your voice, your ear catch them and they hold nothing but a faint memory.

I repeat and repeat and I list and I list in a bid to catch the meaning, the moment, the clear cool fractured mirror of my fire-soul. But here I am I am and meaning collapses down and instead I must find the simplest way, the clearest way, the single word that sums it up that carries it all, the hydra-headed word, the songword, the word of truth, of light, of God. But it is done and done and all the dictionaries in the world cannot give us our shared language, our shared soul.