I set down the words
But do not own their meaning
Any more than I control the wind
The sun
Or the rain
I release them
Into the world
Let the prevailing winds
Take them where they may
Perhaps to find the meaning
They have for you
I set down the words
But do not own their meaning
Any more than I control the wind
The sun
Or the rain
I release them
Into the world
Let the prevailing winds
Take them where they may
Perhaps to find the meaning
They have for you
I’ve never studied
What the Poets say
Nor worried much
How they place their words
Or why that way
I do not know
How to write a sonnet
I am not sure
What makes pentameter
Iambic
I hope that’s OK
Overwhelmed
As they are
By the inexplicable
So I settle in
Allow the divine
To speak for itself
how a brush stroke
or a phrase
can create
an icon
how few lines
or words
are required
to tell a story
and how every story
and every icon
means something different
to everyone
Few
Enough left who could
Read
The irrelevant past
Now
Silly stories of
Love
Self help for plentiful
Times
Dystopian imaginings for a world of
Ease
So it was no wonder salvagers
Found
No value in printed
Words
All the many ways we use them
All the many ways they come to me
All the many ways they coalesce
Promoting insight
Undermining ignorance
Evoking feeling
Forming meaning
Hero
A word of nuance
Of many meanings
Of differences
Subtle and grave
She found that sad
The world was a more beautiful place
When magical creatures danced
A shame no one else knew the magic
Not intended
For me alone
I write them
Or not