Breathe into me.
For there is a longing inside that remains unexpressed
A true current of meaning, but second-guessed.
It lies just beyond my reach
Because we have forgotten the subtler things.
Pour into me.
For there is a light I feel but cannot yet see.
Even such stunted prescience has vanished for many.
The world grows not dimmer, but rather our eyes darker
Because we have forgotten the softer things.
For I long to know the art of what most say is dead
Purported reason and meaning overtly insipid.
Treasures misplaced only the past have cherished
Because we have forgotten the slower things