Untitled... for lack of letters forming

This that I can hear, it swells
It overwhelms, it surrounds, penetrates, shakes
It moves, caresses, turns, kisses, holds
It brushes, whispers, yells, fights, forgets
It often burns and stirs and then it quits
but not the soul- no, the soul remembers
it remains there, in the smoldering embers
Of melodies that were but are no more
Yet somehow still remain, the sweet refrain
That lifts the edge of gloom or pulls it closer
While he who writes those words is none the wiser
To his words which trespass on sacred ground
And where can I hide from this haunting?
Who will put this ghost to rest?
It's pursuit is relentless, under the skin, in the vein
Now in bone and then in marrow
Shortly will I find myself at the end of myself
With this that wraps its cords around my mind
And sings a soft and sickly lullaby
Of what could be if things were not so
If I were not so...
Or perhaps if they were more?
No, indeed it always ends in self or selflessness
Or the end of this
... or that, where am I?
Have they found me?
Will they tell me when they do?
Is there a word for this thing that sneaks
And steals and changes?
Is there a word for this longing other than selfishness
and vain conceit?
Are there any choices yet left to make?
Surely there was so much that we never saw
Surely there was something left undone
That brought us here, to now, to this
How can one un-be what one has become?
The unlearning seems so impossible
I feel gripped in the maddening crush of
A wealth of information laid bare
And where to hide from my mind? There is nowhere!
There is nothingness and desolation
There is life and population
There are wars and droughts and famine
Lands of plenty, peace and swimming pools
And so I know my knowing still lacks and understanding
Of any thing that exists outside this thing.
This thing that touches, changes, moves, stirs, removes..
Causes a longing for something.
No, the longing was already there and there too long
for some get so suspicious of that look on my face
or in my eye, that light that somehow changes
Those words that wont' come out the right way,
Letters which refuse to form the sequence that would best explain
This
And so I'm left with
This