Unnamed Mark
Barrett
In honor
and humility we kneel
(perhaps trembling) before...
something;
something unnamed but which has named
Then
let this
us:
be the awe
of light juxtaposed with darkness, the shadow-fears dancing at the
gamely
periphery of our intuition,
and everything we know
to
be unknown.
But, imagine if someone were to speak
of what they had seen or heard here, inside the
dimly-cramped amphitheater of human consciousness,
then muttering in hushed and broken tones to the
one nearest them;
would do
that next person
the same,
until finally, grandiose truth is
reduced to a child's game.
But
then,
who among
And after all, what
us does not have a story?
hasn't been seen or heard
and told a thousand times, in ten
thousand subtle ways?
Perhaps truth
is
best kept intact
close to the vest,
and held somewhere near the
heart.
