This Place

We speak of words as though they matter cuts from broken glass that shatter bleed into our lives through every portal. And I will tell you this by way of movement through this corridor whose only light must come from deep within the origins of love: “that no man knoweth what he is except within the mind of those he loves.” We speak of gifts and definitions, lay upon our treasured meanings all the prose that generations carry. All that goes before and after all that lies between, as though by reason of our being they have birthed a cause. There is a place that is a further shore than any death you might imagine. All men must walk this place alone, and know that by their leaving all the air forever undisturbed will be as air between the words we speak. All love that none will ever know forever leaves this world it's only hope.