Noumenon

Noumenon silence is the mother of wisdom close and warm polished and strong within that wet darkness a harsh metal bloom is born spiral vapors churn around it how to even think about what cannot be in thought ascribed as real or not the chain becomes a mirror slow motion rain slides down the glass I've lost my place crossed out miles of tangled verse "thing in itself" unknown pure irrelevant trapped before and after the narrow now no descent into description can shape your perfect skies no simple hope or fear will dim your gentle eyes