The Learning Process

Force fields besiege both ears, unreadied
for your words-
words of salvation; words silenced
in plastic casings, in fears
of cracking its shell, self-made.

Averting to pains of well-tracked hypotheses,
only to bore contempt
in forced experiment, in attempts to predict
and control
the variables.
And the pursuit is foiled,
a calculation that only thwarts your
chrysalis-
cradling the embryo of
your words' painted wings.

While, ironically,
in soundless increment,
the plastic shifts to fluid, to vapored
particle.
The orb transforms its own atmosphere-
now permeable,
and less opaque.
Yet such a velocity- both constant,
and slight,
is mistaken as lacking motion.
An axis denied of existing;
an inertia unrecognized
by a turbulent mind.

Until, the moment of perforation:
as unexpected,
ordinary,
indiscernible, even,
but always when alone, stalled in shadows,
Agony sounds instead like
a laugh-
so clear and startling,
so intimate,
so perfect in its endeavor.

And we can acknowledge the beauty found in death,
in inaudible words long heard:
their diligence;
transcendence;
the unfathomable dissolve of a well-guarded bliss.

We will welcome the news, beyond ritual.
Welcome the art in all our failing to simulate
the secrets only told
inside cocoon.