Limited by words

Our thoughts are weak
and shallow.
Limited by the words
we desperately search for
trying to trace an outline
of the map that will guide us.
These letters scatter
like sawdust in a breeze.
No hope for recollection.
We compose with our emotions
through the notes of our actions
on the hybrid of
a typewriter and a piano.
The intensity of what lies
within us
is too overwhelming
to make eye contact.
So we fight the ghost
we cannot see
with weapons we
desperately try to understand.
We are lost within ourselves
so we try to be found
within others,
searching for words
to explain the definition
of what is unknown
inside us.