Words

Alone:

you with the words,

and that is true solitude,

Clarions and triumphal-arch

will not in this life be.

You see

into the soul

from before - and in the beginning,

Year after year you struggle on,

finding nothing.

And over there

in the warm light

of gentle human-comfort,

from moist, rosy, lips,

words uttered lovingly.

But your years turn yellow

in another manner,

until into dreams:

your words --

finally become silence.