This shape without space, <br />This pattern without stuff, <br />This stream without dimension <br />Surrounds us, flows through us, <br />But leaves no mark. <br /> <br />This message without meaning, <br />These tears without eyes <br />This laughter without lips <br />Speaks to us but does not <br />Disclose its clue. <br /> <br />These waves without sea <br />Surge over us, smooth us. <br />These hands without fingers <br />Close-hold us, caress us. <br />These wings without birds <br />Strong-lift us, would carry us <br />If only the one thread broke. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Stephen Fryer<br /><br />Arthur Seymour John Tessimond<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/music-10/