Not Enough

It doesn’t happen. It seems as though the world has stopped turning, as though the words that power existence have gone. There was a time when a single phrase would be enough. It would set the world turning in a new way; new reflections could be seen in all the surfaces shining this world back into the eyes. It seemed as though everything had been made new and the world was starting out again, revolving around that one moment when those particular words gave it a new axis to turn on.

It seemed that those words, in that order, had dissected the world, dissected time, laid it open in front of the eyes and made the workings of the universe so clear, almost graspable. If it didn’t make everything make sense, it – at least – gave the hand something to hold onto, some place to grasp, a handhold and somewhere to begin.

Now though, the words seem as tired as the world. Words don’t seem to be enough any more. Silence grows out from the head, fighting back against the inanities of a world babbling to itself, filling the air around itself with sound without meaning, because the words it hears are not enough, not any more.