Unsaid, But Never

The elusive moments, whence comprehension strays,

And speech betrays the heart’s own winding ways.

O’er the abyss of culture, meaning oft will fade,

Leaving but fragments in the silence we have made.

What foreign words may build a bridge to span

The distant shores of another’s mind or land?

When understanding fails, how can we hope to share

The shapes and colors found in one’s own inner lair?

Perchance some comfort can in quietness be found,

If we but listen for the spirits’ subtle sound.

For though the spoken trails may twist and turn astray,

Our yearning souls may meet where silent dreamers play.

Where wayward sights have missed life’s fading embers,

Beyond the bend await the heart’s sweet whispers.

Past lessons hard from journeys turbulent yet sage,

We drift upon a stream towards our heritage.