Ventricle

I am only what I can make with my hands,
That which is created in my head can be made.
The very notion of feeling, unreal, other worldly
remain in abstraction.
Valued resource if only able to cultivate into the realness that is our existence.
The spoken word of the heart is all that which I can tangibly speak.
Though the level at which it is tangible has yet to be made clear.
It is the sounds of my soul that drive every moment of the being of which I call my own.
Translation into the norm has unintended consequences.
It speaks, though it speaks with out the right ear to hear.