582 Love Sonnets to the Rock: 8

After the idea mentioned in this post by lazlazlaz

What existed here before we
were able to measure
the residue of unhappiness
in the shapeless carats of diamond
sized city? The question outpours
a million glassy eyes caught
in spontaneous howl and gnaws
at our clamoring enamel.

Could we have made a thing
exist as a thing without form,
the difference made between the soft
lingering of breath and its erosion?

Why all the questions? I’m afraid
without them we couldn’t remain swaying.

-C.S. Henderson