Word(s)

I

I cherished words when I was young.
They used to cascade of my tounge
in abundant surging streams -
they were the backbone of my dreams.

They bore me up through clouds of white
where humid air with chilly bite
came together to disguise
His incantation-scribbled skies.

I then saw beaches where the sand
was tiny letters laid by hand.
Here the Uncreated Light
shone like a beacon through the night.

Existence is both pain and bliss.
Mere chance could not give rise to this.
Wind and water - beast and bird:
In the beginning was the Word.


II

I used to dream of merging letters
to free them from all chains and fetters
for meaning is a human sign
of the realm of the divine.


III

To write is to lead a battle with the unknown
knowing you will lose many.
Perhaps we can only write with words we own
and I own so few, if any.



Poetry by An-ders
Read 764 times
Written on 2014-12-03 at 16:29

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