What You Must Know, Lies At The Last Signal Of His Hand. Poem by RIC BASTASA

not everything shall be said
know that,
not every entanglement is
bound by words,
takes time to know that,
so many things shall be
unsaid,
and this you must begin
to understand
the books are not hanged
on trees
the letters do not fly in the
sky
for you to know what a bird
is what life is,
the old do not write what
they want to tell you,
you stay beside their death
beds
and know that,
what you must know,
lies at the last signal
of his hand.