First, we


(the explorers)


Learn.

Words are easy.
Writing is hard.
And vice versa


with an "et cetera."

We discover language.
Embrace it.
Make it.




And Yet...

Those of yesterday mourn,
chanting "Oh Captain, my Captain...",
holding us like a stillborn.






Child.

But we breath.
And therefore,
We love.

We explore the intimacy those of old appear to shun.
Awkward


comfortable





safe
frustration



suffocation






final declaration

Then
She says
"Like a Poet,
you throw it
all away."

He says
"You've gotten to know me too well."
and leaves.
No farewell.
No more words to misspell.

We no longer trust appearances.

We desire the Truth that will not come.

Until the sun sets,



or rises.
Our world
transcends to bright colors of
pink,
gold,


and
blue,
like a Byzantine illumination.

Like a revolution.
Fight. Rebel.
Begin anew.

We
(the explorers)

discover.

Crumbling foundations,
To our fascination.

We Discover...

Definitions without words.
Manuscripts under my bed.