The Beginning Of The Story

It is not that I cannot say what happened
It is not that words diminish it
It is not that I would be misunderstood

At the furthest reaches of beauty the senses lose their memory
The eye cannot hold the light
The music slides away

When I try to say what I saw words do not fail: memory fails, vision fails, the senses fail

When I try to say what I know, I say things completely other
Now a story exists, and it is not what occurred

What I saw was not beautiful. It was beauty
What I heard was not true. It was truth
What I am saying now is less than what I know