Careful with those words;
you know, those words that are unspoken,
unwritten, undeniably lost somewhere
in the desert of mindless emptiness.
Even steps taken are blown away
in the unspeakable wind.

Sand storms rage blowing unconnected
vowels and consonants across blank
pages as white as unspoiled snow.

White sand upon white snow;

white letters tumbling without sounds

or sense.

Just jumbled thoughts without
direction falling upon the white abyss of
blanketed brains without a notion of
what or where or even why nothing
ever enters into the spirit, let alone
the mind of one so confused and
disjointed as to no longer understand
language, thought, or expression.

Tap, tap, tap...

dancing fingers

play games of the young and vigorous
while the hand has no understanding
of the outcome.

Plain words, plain paper, plain straight-line
heartbeats making a sad and lonely sound
while the beeps fall into one loud blare

and then

death.

Perhaps the requiem orator will speak eloquently
on behalf of the muted poet