Blue Raven’s Gold Aspens

The writer and the reader,
The speaker and audience,
Preacher and congregation,

All want something more than us,
More than ordinary words,
Something rare and numinous.

Sometimes, you think you’ve found it.
You bump into a strange phrase
That moves you, that unsettles

Your memory, raising up
An imaginary world
That feels feels better than the world,

More real or more important
Or impossibly vivid.
You forget that it’s just us,

A run of words, a sequence
Of items that, broken up,
Tossed into other contexts,

Would just be words, nothing much.
You forget that it’s just you
Hiding anything in us.