In you swoop, with your skeleton key
Your well-thumbed dictionary
And your careful schooling
Giving labels to vague sensations
Giving names to my complications
Inking in the pencil sketch
Of my loose understanding
Of these ancient inner workings

Your delicate hands, so skilfully
Unspooling films that I’ve been censoring
I rush to scramble the combination
But you come with title cards ...

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Lurking in the natural world
there are sentences, still unspoken
always waiting to be written
frozen in time
waiting for the great warmth 
of a curious heart

Haunting at the edges of the living world
are spirits of the unspoken connectivity in people
dead and alive, the as-yet unborn
caught between planes
waiting for the flashlight beam
of a curious heart

There is an untapped seem ...

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