Somewhere Between Star Dust

Some where between star dust And fissioned syllables Our moonstruck lives gazed at No more, context in un-utterables Becomes the strangers at the door. We have lost crown and glory To thresh dictionaries for honor Imbedded in us before. I ponder the meaning of all I am Hand crafted mountain Sculptured portrait drawn on light Ransomed by the tongueless lamb The word becoming dust Stored in a mound Of silent churchyard. O to hear the word again It is very good Without sentence and sentience Among the singing of the stars I who was deaf in the beginning Gazed at in praise again Where memory is desolate and there is no pain.