#1713 - waiting for the words to come

 

1713

5.281

8.x.24

waiting for the words to come

 

it’s a kind of dark in which

the book is already falling apart

 

it’s for the day to heal

 

words are all dying

 

even as we speak

we, all of us, look into death

 

this is the mirror of time

 

fish leap the seas

we preen

 

here’s a sky not twice the same

out on the spiral arm

 

cloud upon cloud

as unknowing

 

it’s out of the echoing in, all feel

few acknowledge, slog on

 

head crammed with who we are

with how we have been read

 

it is to conjure

a face

a voice

a turn of phrase

 

often they are short with me

 

it’s this and thus

 

at last a name is called

as from the air

 

come along

come along

 

all weep for the words that are gone

 

we’re here for the here and now