My subject is those emotions
They forgot to name when handing out
The words that bound ideas to thoughts
Subtle magic, really, but often forgotten
A magic of formless thought wrapped,
With grasping tendrils around dreams,
Hopes, desires, fears and longings,
What's the name of the color,
You see as the sun sets over a hill,
The grass is green, the sky is blue,
But the light is all of these, and gold,
What's the name of a color so complex,
Poets name it by the time of day,
And have done, wash their hands, head home
What's the name of the feeling,
You feel as a train rolls out,
You see your loved ones around you,
But you know one day one of them will board,
Ride far away,
Never to return.
How do you mourn for someone,
That you'll never meet or know,
And how do you ponder an idea,
That no one has ever pondered before?
Why did they forget these feelings,
At the great Naming before all Names?