made of language

Is the unknowable unknown
the scariest place?

Is it that language doesn’t travel there?

Why rock the boat?
Why waist the time?
Why not stay the same?
Is realization that desirable?

I can’t travel there? Feelings get go but I can’t?
Am I made of language?
So is this what it’s like to be
something that doesn’t take up any space?
A name an identity a host a planner.

What will I do with myself when I die?


2 thoughts on “made of language

    • Lois, I love to ask questions as you can see. “I don’t know” is my answer, but I can imagine that it’s probably both at the same time. Perhaps not of the common type of excitement we normally think about.

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