Stop Singing

The possibility that if I stopped clapping
My hands in the void
I would notice that I can't hold on to things
And
The possibility that if I stopped using my voice
I would notice songs that, all around me, sing
Looms in weather
Lives buried in my days
With all my songs and rhythms going like
The darkness surrounding a flame
It's what I don't say with my mouth
It's my mouth open
To breathe in
It's open windows
Still, I go on and on describing the shape
Around the thing I want to but can not name
In song
And, though my long life feels busy
And full of usefulness and drive
I will sleep through every single dawn
And those I see I will not understand though I try
I will sing through every single song
About the spaces left when we stop singing
And I will sing this
With longing