Opus

And there are words, often useless, often noise Sometimes they are more Small pieces of a history set free Bit by bit they leave and take Small shards of what I used to be   And I am less, yet I am somehow more for the loss Fallen to the ground, or received Parts of me are gone, never again to be found If heard, if understood, they live on in another As I become unbound   In a here that never was, Shared with what always was… What will always be…as it was in the beginning Is now…and always will be More words spoken in the dark night   And I pray, though I am not a Christian I meditate, though the East is but a dream And the words rise I release what is left of me So little remains to be said   When they are done There will be peace Empty to accept That I am With nothing left to say.