the search for definition

it's just words
stacked upon words,
that builds up the
phrase,
that's surrounded
by context,
that creates the point,
that has been pierced
by the entire meaning.

here we are,
sitting by the receiver,
with rabbit ears,
waiting for some voice
that'll lift us
away from this.

we imagine god,
but
this is mostly a prayer,
for the hopeful,
the squeezed,
the ones that carry something immortal
between equators
and
the width of their ears.

we nearly believe.

and when someone says
something
we either pick it
or we don't.

we are not pauses.

we are arms
searching through
the ether,
trying to locate a handlebar,

the culmination of words,
falling,
without a parachute,
not understanding
what it takes
to crash through
the skin
of the ground.