an aching gap in words

There are many gaps between words. some very intense and burning and aching gaps between words and words and bodies and bodies...
I recall a silence of mine, a silence-Me, blowing, detonating, in harmony with those gaps. There were nameless times, really nameless and eventful. The hour was ripe for in-depth studies on winds and waves and thunders. The surprisingly strong thing happened when the feeling of silence and the feeling of thunder reached the high point of total fusion.
My dwelling evidence of craving for X exploded on time and before its time. All at once. Time was disrupted like a torn muscle, for ever uncapable of telling the story of its long dynamics - as well as its most cherished substantive resting gestures. Maybe because of the primal aching gap. However sweet an explosion may be, I still do not venture my unbroken bones through that forest of nascent symbols. still