These words can only consume the infinte intricate simplicity that is
And crap out useless emissions of philosophical gas
Explaining limits which explain nothing
And limit even less

I can read days of lines, nights of stanzas
And never experience light or dark
I can trudge through the how tos and why fors
And never learn to use this world to my advantage
I can paint a picture with eloquent text
But you'll always have to have been there

For the mountains in a photograph will always be two inches tall
And even at seventy two point font they'll only be one inch high.
No grammar can break into a padlocked soul
Words are ignored and disbelieved
Experience tells me there's more to life that just what I hear and read

For words confuse and paragraphs bore
Sentances run on pages of half-truths
But sitting and listening to the wonder that is
In the midst of this salty suburban swamp
Proves simple silence will suffice to teach my soul to sing.