out of the clue (and into the lack)

although it seems like nothing did occur
there is a question mark that asks
how could these thoughts come out of blurred
nothing even if it's strangely masked –
 
there is a something embedded within
untraceable things and signs and sense –
part of the concrete context and its spin
towards an ever-linking now and then
 
and here and there and everything else
no matter what words you think you need do fit –
every text is a vehicle that astonishingly tells
of aspects you're connected with through it
 
acting out specific parts of underlying realities
self-referring – giving birth to new poetic thoughts
metanoidly confusing failing ways to see... to be
unable to integrate and interpret these words
 
growing within the act of writing and the need
to shape to experience what comes right through me  
            parallelly to remind me  
encoded in-between what no one can read
refusing to stay noticeable outside what flees
 
but the world around me it has changed
to meet a somehow different sense of truth
with interacting causal rings fitting in so very strange
evolution of thinking structures forced to get used
 
to elaborate what's coming through
by discovering by constructing something new
a weird maze – half-and-half out of the clue
meant think to reflect but neglect what threw
each line out of the lack that filling whole that knew  
eternal ways and still knows and shows a few
to me who actually is another you
a turning prerecursive screw
creating the context enclosing all we are and do