"How could I live
without metaphors?

To call things by their names,
not to drown in longings,
not to color them,
to make shapes less painful?"^

><<><
this quest, this verse curses
my drifting senses. now all attentions,
the outlined shapes that haunt, daunt,
lacking ****** substance,
just wafers and wines symbolic,
to defer away the many pointy fingers,
hands of nothing but forefingers
aiming exactly at  our temple's
temple
stating most factually,

J'accuse

shadows are metaphors,
images meta-stasizing
into what ever

you believe,
what
you think you meta~need to see,
in the dark late of the light of our soul's night,
so you right of,
you write of
seasonal changes,
hardly illusory,
failing to note, that when you wrote:

How could I live without metaphors?

the answer metaphorical+historical,
for the question is only
rhetorical

for you know~knew

that once we know the name to everything,
we will no longer want them,
but only to write of them in
idealized metaphors
so we can sleep~dream on,
perchance
while the
restoration of the imagination
is our brain sourcing
new things
that seek, crave,
to satisfy our urgent needs

to describe, define, our every fractional moment