You can learn things from a heart so bleedingWhen love bargains with deceitful pleading Hours soar from dawn to dawn splitting your time Don’t hear melody from a soundless chime

Look what we've done so far. We're pretty good at the impossible.

Now, Emily didn't make a sound. There was something more defining about the soundless reality that condemned the paradigm of passion.

It is deep January. The sky is hard.The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.It is in this solitude, a syllable,Out of these gawky flitterings,Intones its single emptiness,The savagest hollow of winter-sound.