still

I want to know what you think
Seven tracks laid
All running at the same time
But I still want to know
Still
My words are relentless
Relentlessly sculpting truth
Finding the forms that long
For understanding
I want to know you
Under covers of safe
Cushioned breathable air
Breathing your air
Still
Locomotion chisel chipped
I find a frustration of nothing
A library full of secrets
Red clay and charcoal
And draw my own conclusions