Sometimes words lie between us,

Ones unsaid,

Others which cannot be unsaid.

We learn to speak by watching our Mother's mouth,

Gazing at her face and listening

to the sounds in the air around us.

Each thing has a label attached,

Waiting for it to be uttered,

and so become real.

And when we learn to recognise

those things that have been labelled,

as with love,

and hate,

We pass through the door

to elements concrete.

I look at titles before content,

Glancing only sideways at first,

towards those elements on view..

It gives you an idea to hold on to.

Helen Keller knew the nature of water,

even before her teacher showed her 

The sign.

I hope she never lost her sense 

of smell or touch

as she got old.

Still, maybe all that naming of the parts

would have formed some solid notion

of the nature of things

inside her head,

and she wouldn't have been cast adrift again,

but been able to grasp the memory of things,

and know the compensation of ideas.

You have to jump from a high height

to see things properly;

metaphorically speaking.

Let yourself go and fall free.

The restraint of a page,

Or a frame,

will sustain you,

save you from complete obliteration,

so to speak.

but god help you if

you ever decide to make,

or contemplate

a piece of sculpture.

Or a poem without