When the first word was born,
when the first thought was sewn,
when my fingers trembled to write,
I knew not, it would ever see the light.
The jotted lines blossomed into words.
Its fragrance spread - a trance filled state.
But,this unlikely trance shook them up,
every soul who breathed the scent.
Their eyes lit up , as darkness gave way.
They tasted from the fountain of knowledge,
one that all had seen ,but never known.
And as knowledge came,lingered, wisdom.
Some words are wise, some otherwise.
But certain I am of one-
Every word is a memory in a shell,
of fear, of love , of a life that has seen the sun set and rise.
Word is mightier than a sword,
I have heard them say.
Yet they go to war -for land and for riches,
not wanting to talk, only the sword!
"A poem begins in a delight and ends in wisdom"
said Robert Frost, drinking from his fountain.
As I read through the random words I wrote,
I see my delight , but where is the wisdom?
It's not a poem, I'm sure,...or is it?
when the first thought was sewn,
when my fingers trembled to write,
I knew not, it would ever see the light.
The jotted lines blossomed into words.
Its fragrance spread - a trance filled state.
But,this unlikely trance shook them up,
every soul who breathed the scent.
Their eyes lit up , as darkness gave way.
They tasted from the fountain of knowledge,
one that all had seen ,but never known.
And as knowledge came,lingered, wisdom.
Some words are wise, some otherwise.
But certain I am of one-
Every word is a memory in a shell,
of fear, of love , of a life that has seen the sun set and rise.
Word is mightier than a sword,
I have heard them say.
Yet they go to war -for land and for riches,
not wanting to talk, only the sword!
"A poem begins in a delight and ends in wisdom"
said Robert Frost, drinking from his fountain.
As I read through the random words I wrote,
I see my delight , but where is the wisdom?
It's not a poem, I'm sure,...or is it?
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