The possibility that if I stopped clapping my hands in the void
I would notice that I can't hold on to things
And the possibility that if I stopped bellowing my voice in the void
I would notice songs that, all around me, sing
Looms in weather
Lives buried in my days
With all my songs and rhythms going
Like the darkness surrounding a flame
It's what I don't say with my mouth
It's my mouth opening to breathe in
It's the open windows in the wall
Still I go on and on describing the shape
Around the thing I want to but can not name
I go on and on in song after song, after song, after song
And though my long life feels busy
And full of usefulness and drive
I will sleep through every single dawn
And those I see I will not really comprehend
And I will sing through every single song
About the spaces left when we stop singing
And I will do this with longing
The possibility that if I stopped clapping my hands in the void I would notice that I can't hold on to things And the possibility that if I stopped bellowing my voice in the void I would notice songs that, all around me, sing
Looms in weather Lives buried in my days With all my songs and rhythms going Like the darkness surrounding a flame
It's what I don't say with my mouth It's my mouth opening to breathe in It's the open windows in the wall Still I go on and on describing the shape Around the thing I want to but can not name
I go on and on in song after song, after song, after song And though my long life feels busy And full of usefulness and drive I will sleep through every single dawn And those I see I will not really comprehend
And I will sing through every single song About the spaces left when we stop singing And I will do this with longing