That which has been lost

jubilation. anguish. passion.

What more is any art form

than an attempt to recreate

that which the soul knows

but the tongue cannot speak?

An expression—

poem, melody, painting—

so filled with these realities

eventually can no longer contain

its own mass.

It spills over its boundaries

and flows through the soul,

rejoining the spirit

it has successfully recreated.

The essence of unrefined truth of experience.

It reaches the resonant frequency of emotion

amplifying an instantaneous crescendo

through everything it reaches.

It connects everything that will

or ever has been

in a single instant of

holy union.

They say language is only a metaphor,

a mere symbol of actuality,

and it comes from a part of the heart

already dead.

These experiences reanimate

that which has been

lost.