A thought occurs,
trailing through mind,
body and
breath.
Pen is touched to paper,
anticipating,
then freezes.

Nothing.

That single opening line vibrates
through the silence,
a plea to be acknowledged,
expressed.

But,
a powerless leader
of an illusory accompaniment,
words crumble to
scattered sonants
that remain voiceless,
and finally fall to
faithless piles
of
consonant
filth.

Perhaps then
it is not the time
for concrete concepts,
but for those of more
complexity.

Such cannot be fathomed
into speech, or
even hastily scrawled.
They are felt
without sight
or sense entirely,
and only completed upon
the final emblem,
the lowering of the means,
the posed close of the
dance.

All meant
to be interpreted,
yet not understood.  
Appreciated in shrouded  
mystery,
and impressed
upon lives
for the uncovering
of a
     revived
          revelation.