Two Chimeras Poem by Jake Howard

An evening walk, early summer,
Buildings mingle with the sky.
An intangible something crowds in,
And you say:
“I'll capture this in writing.”

Capture what, exactly?
The experiences don't match.
The first, shamefully, feels like GOD,
BEAUTY, or some forgotten form.
Then it fails right at the last.

We cannot know what these things mean;
No, we can't even know what 'meaning' means.
Can I just have it and have done with it?

The pen hits the page,
The scene dies away,
And all is lost.
If it ever was.