In the beginning was the word
The ideas flowed like wine
Grappling through the night
We explored
The ramifications of the past,
The indentations of the present
The permutations of the future.
We delved the endless font
Of our literal lives
Page after page we turned
Swallowing chapters, misspelled loves
Grammatical wastelands spread across the crumbled sheets,
All could be corrected.
Those words, I can still remember
Embossed on my brow
Like Braille, I’m blind enough to read.

In time the words went dry.
Perhaps we said it all.
Or chose to say no more.
The questions were replaced
With smug complacency.
The river of curiosity slowed,
And trickled between our toes.

In the end there were no words.
Passion took the podium
In tender speechless quiverings
We pressed the meaning on our flesh
Somehow it was enough
As we devoured our silent summations.
The unspoken proclamations
Confirmed my doubts
Reaffirmed my hopes.
As the last page was turned
The rising sun filled the empty room.