The bodies of my body
Are words,
Instantaneous presence
In a vast meadow of echoes,
Each a syllable dancing and forming
The unspoken:

Unspoken hours
Multiplied by mirrors in the mind
Reflecting changes,
The unspoken breeds silence,
The tongue is an element
Of perceptions,
Once spoken it is realised.
I live within the whispers
Populating the spoken vibrations
Carried by air
Bathing in the light.

In all the alphabetical skies
Drinking the nouns of clouds
I spoke my mortality,
Death is the loneliest word;
But not the first,
I found peace when a landscape
Of prayers in the form of poetry
Spoke all things
And I became a word in limbo,
There in my momentary existence
I saw that God
Is the First Word,
Yet God never spoke,
But always listens......