Glossolalia

Struggle through the thicket of words
nothing desirable in the paradox of our knowing.

My resolve to discover the hidden nature of you - is there such a thing
Or, is it only my romantic temperament that makes it so?
propels me into dark territory beyond space.
Isn’t the evil always the other?
shrouded in enchantment,
hidden in the forest.

Necromancer of loves half shadow,
you cast, thick net and wide across the vast sea
and mine spread,
arms outstretched, cruciform
I lay ready for your harvest, gather.

I obscure,
as you in your murky clarity
pronounce with utter indignity
the measure of your day.

Don’t assemble in scrambled letters
make you me
and I never was the ‘that’ you said.
Incomprehensible.
That these were the murmurs of ‘intellectuals’ –
mostly glossolalia makes all the more sense!