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Thursday, November 27, 2008

The End of Saying

The End of Saying


When words are used like
Putting the perfect puzzle
Together piece by piece,

And one curved notch fits
Lovingly with another
To make a clearer picture,

What lies at the end of saying?

When words fall like leaves
From the branches of tongues
Upon the breast of the earth,

In mimicry of an amber season's
Ardent rustling that speaks
Of dying things in the heart,

What lies at the end of saying?


When spoken sentences are but
Timid, conquered territories
In the realm of our language,

And silence remains to hiss
At the ships of imagination
To drown or lead us home,

What lies at the end of saying?

When words begin like dawn,
Daring a new day to break
Pact with a haunting night,

Syllables cut dazzling bright
From a fundamental light
That sustains the world,

What lies at the end of saying?


What lies at the end of saying,
But doing the will
Of the spoken word?

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