Inexpressibility of reality/life
No cloud would yield
No horizon would kneel
No sky'd bow down
for the sake of poetry
Oceans couldn't care less
to conform to the shores of rhyme
Not in the least bother to go
to the islands of verse left waiting
Grains of sand varied,
each bend unique,
defying the limits of lexicon
the river reclines timeless
People would be people
not lovers to the fraction
the pages would make one believe
a fiction unrealised
Subdued by undertones
taken to the limits by hyperbole
Swinging between analogies
and truth peerless
A con artist is each
that wields a pen
to make a living
or to escape life
No sleight of words
No ruse of language
can rob reality
of the robe of ineffability
Countless bards,
nameless scribes
over the pages of history
have tried and succeeded
in enjoying the very failing
As reality walks away,
from under the keen eyes
and quills prying,
remaining
ever the undescribed
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