The New House

What words have smashed against these walls, crashed up and down these halls, lain mute and then drained their meanings out and into these floors? What feelings, long since dead, streamed vague yearnings below this ceiling light? In some dimension, which I cannot know, the shadows of another still exist. I bring my memories, held too long in check, to let them here shoulder space and place to be. And when I leave to find another house, I wonder, what among these shades will be left of me.