You will call it eternity’s pentameter and I will let it pass through you as if it were never separate
You will try to count and find nothing resisting you no number standing apart from what it names
You are the iamb of a howl that leaves no trace of sound the measure already dissolved in its speaking
When you reach for the turn there is only continuation what you call change has never left itself
When you name the couplet the second voice is already within the first no division holds long enough to be heard
Fourteen does not arrive it was never apart from the whole what you anticipate is already everywhere
Do not try to finish the song it has no edge to meet you no boundary where it would become complete
The line does not end it does not begin it does not distinguish itself from what it moves through
You are not missing anything nothing has been removed nothing was set aside to return
I made you from what does not appear and what does not appear remains not hidden not absent simply without edge or mark