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,
A precis,
Calls it-
Poem
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
thrusting it
Within.
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
away.
Why?
Woe wails
Vast vale of
Sighs and
crys and tears.
Touchstone. Take
it, touch it, Time.
Dust. It’s this
tale of days turning, into years.
I love this Luke but don't worry about the format bud!
ReplyDeletethanks Ade, but it looked pretty in word!
ReplyDelete