Poetry and jazz

No-one said

Though no-one said, a village once,
When stayed a stranger there.
Sheltered in from weather's worst,
Such ever rage should dare.
In tormented desolation,
The sky asunder tear.

Yet sensed without, the shadowed gloom;
Could tendril fear, maligned.
Heavy through as autumn rage,
Impose upon the mind.
As with the fall of rain brought in,
On him alone, to find.

Drawn without, in spite of certain terror!
If begone, arrest the conscience ream.
E'er wronged of sense, there watched upon,
An isolated stretch of stream.

Rax'd the sane, no past, nor recent future.
Of un-whole, to find within there caught.
Ne'er to regain, but turned as one,
Non-continuous form of thought!

After time, a mind interned,
The weather turned around.
No stand against a torn response,
To move should once be found.
Not chased from running water,
But hiding from the sound.

White empty, of rock, stood houses alone,
Should one upon crossing, never to know.
That while rests the river's dry bed of stone,
Waits for the rain for impressions of flow.