Ellipses

One day the ink runs dry, The stains stop short on the page. A hesitant pen stock still, held tight. The silence ever daunting, hard to gauge.

The gap grows ever larger; A shouting absence fills the Space. A chasm that ink could never cover, A blankness taking its place.

This gift will not be tied in a bow. No room for pretty neatness; Perfection would hardly fill this hole, Positioned punctuation ever hopeless

Words crack under the Pressure of understanding; A longing for explanation, Pain of impossibility, a mind fighting

But the page refuses to provide Those simple songs of light, No number of letters could ever entrap This beauty or its bite but

Perhaps silence could try…