Beyond the gods of everyones’ words,
above the forest’s canopy
and below, far below
deep river-cut canyons,
there exists all of that which has no name,
and never will.
We will run out of answers
before we run out of questions
because the best answers
give rise to new questions.
It is in the throne room of silence then,
that galaxies become lovers
and give birth to bacteria.
And it is from nameless, invisible oceans
teeming with mysteries
that Brahms Symphony No.1 in C minor,
Jimi’s “Electric Ladyland”
and the colors of ecru, mauve, and
burnt umber (among millions more),
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