Cascade (In All But Words) Poem by Poetry Forms

The questions that he frames in all but words
will run as hushed as when they were a thought;
yet nothing he should care to leave behind,

they cannot scare him with their empty spaces.
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once
the questions that he frames in all but words,

they fall, they rip the grass, they intersect;
they must go downward past things coming up
will run as hushed as when they were a thought

be swallowed up in leaves that blow away,
to scare himself with his own desert places,
yet nothing he should care to leave behind.