Letters of the day.
Perhaps Apollo snapped his string
And shot into the beings below:
Synecdoche.
Illuminate your ink markings,
said He,
My eyes long to see images leap from your words.
Write creatures, Write.
Interpretation was weaved together,
And the god was satisfied.
For these words began to walk,
Then dance all around him.
As the edges of his mouth curled upwards,
As the parts synchronized,
As the genus became the species,
As the species became the genus,
A new definition was formed.
The world celebrated the melodic movements
Of mere symbols.
Today’s world must continue the dance
Carry it through screen and paper,
So Apollo remains amused
As all watch the words sway with the wind.
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 4:58 PM UTC
Letters of the day.
Perhaps Apollo snapped his string
And shot into the beings below:
Synecdoche.
Illuminate your ink markings,
said He,
My eyes long to see images leap from your words.
Write creatures, Write.
Interpretation was weaved together,
And the god was satisfied.
For these words began to walk,
Then dance all around him.
As the edges of his mouth curled upwards,
As the parts synchronized,
As the genus became the species,
As the species became the genus,
A new definition was formed.
The world celebrated the melodic movements
Of mere symbols.
Today’s world must continue the dance
Carry it through screen and paper,
So Apollo remains amused
As all watch the words sway with the wind.
