Touchstone. Take it. Truth, they’d tarnish it
Sooth, say it, there’s wisdom within it,
awakening, it starts to glow.
All told, lo! it’s wordy
Prone to prattle,
Plucked, picked, from pearlescent aether, saw it shining, sounding singing,
cooed it down to earth. Such voices! Hear, it’s heavenly, happens
it is hardly human, hearken, how unearthly, unbirthed and
unbegun. Barely herely, scarcely nowly, nearly unbecome
wholly free from fealty, owing no allegiance, under
no illusion acting on an idle whim.
Wind guessed it, gusted it
billowed it, bustled it
Heart bird in rib cage, captured, O it sings
sadly sobs laments and wailing woes
Soul, set, with ropes and pins
pines and moons, wanes
and nearly wastes
Vast vale of
Sighs and crys and tears.
Touchstone. Take it, touch it, Time.
Dust. It’s this tale of days turning, into years.