I Find No Words

I find no words to describe
My warm blur of interiors,
Whose boundary stretches the length of sight,
Whose ignition by the logic of timings,
Leads me aimless through the rave-walled dark.

O these beautiful young people,
They are as inanimate and separate from me,
As buildings along the streets,
Forests upon the Earth.

What can I give them to gain their connection,
Their rain splatter of soft hands upon my stiff garment?

Can I give them any more than vague glimpses,
Interpretations of the outside world,
The outside past, the outside laws,
The outside continuation?

Perhaps this is why the sound is so loud,
And the light is so low:

To quench the mouth
From speaking any sense of time.

But I, as one who speaks,
Shall float as a pollen never to rest,
Structured, eternal and unchanging,
Yet free.