Unsettled

Time and pain have this in common—
You can only talk about them
By some kind of comparison,

Analogy, substitution—
Space metaphors, action gerunds,
Length, depth, burning, fleeting, piercing.

They’re the twin suns of human thought,
Or the sun full and sun eclipsed.
Stare directly and see nothing.

Some unknowns need the knowable
To be explored, but time and pain,
Or let’s say change and pain, to show

Their relationship more clearly,
Are not unknown, are intimate,
Probably the most intimate

Of all aware experience.
Still, you can only approach them
Via a displaced description,

Through metaphors. Isn’t that strange?
There are gaps in naming’s systems,
Close to your core of awareness

Of your own experiences
As yourself, and felt as yourself,
But nowhere language can settle.