Sound and Furious Apes

Words are like apes. Apes radiant, dripping in glimmering gold, vessels of some holy silence that sits in the center where all things pool. Yet these words do not know themselves, and so they travel in packs and shout and stab with sound, impotent apes placing power on the throne where eloquent silence still sits sovereign. Apes travelling in an empty mist where time has always already slipped the grip, where each is the actor before his idol, wandering echoes speaking to themselves, alone, alone. This traveling circus of consonants and vowels swirling in our veins: this is the sign of the fool, who is perhaps as omnipresent a spirit as God, who is perhaps His twin.