slowly

the concussions thump vaguely,
dimly spread through the icy flow.
one after another. there… and again.
there is no wind to speak of.
no current dragging limbs seaward.
only gravity: insistent, pressing.
the sounds grow distant,
the souls vacant,
and the glacier…
it trundles on
wayward
alone
lost.

captivating

In that place, in the sky to the left and the right,
above the beauty spilling across the void of space
are found words, written or etched or carved or
more forcibly impressed on the fabric of life and
existence, captivating in their simplicity and wisdom
and yet never quite read, never quite known to their
fullest extent of truth and liberating knowledge,
existing only to entice us further, torment us with
the promise never quite given, though always
and eagerly begged on, a wanting deep driven
in the heart of every man and women, at the core
of each love and each fear, daunting and unsatisfied
for the phrase begs, too, for finality, to know itself.