Beyond all telling

Beyond all telling

Beyond all telling

The decades fly by with a swiftness incomprehensible,
yet moments can seem unendurable filled with nothingness,
dreamlike our desires and conquest,
soon becoming the distant past as if they never were,
fading memories yet kept alive in nostalgias make over,
broad strokes of pastels gentle colors,
or festering gashes of lurid paint,
causing deep explosions of enduring pain.

So each has their story in our trek through time,
our permanence an illusion sore to contemplate,
leading to either despair or joy,
such is the gift of truth,
for we dissipate soon like the mist before the sun,
fading into nothingness.

We are not objects nor are we made for anything,
our souls can only be satiated by that which does not exist,
we are sought by the unnecessary,
that which is no-thing seeks our returning embrace.

For in silence we hear the call,
our thirst drives us often into valleys of dryness and pain
yet the inner void calls us to loves union;
a consummation beyond all telling,
oneness shattering our petty dreams
drawing us into infinite freedom.

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