All of a sudden,
Words strike
Bringing form to forms,
Images to images,
A torpid reality
Of shades, of maybes,
Of what we think.
All of a sudden
These words surprise
Into something new,
Unsaid, untouched,
Unscouted, unbelieved.
All of sudden
Words turn to maps,
To directions in the fog,
To whistles in the woods,
Magnetic fields,
Useless until discovered.
New words,
New worlds,
New sense of living,
Something new
Put into pages
To remark time,
Characters, faces,
Traces, History.
Hail to what has been
And could have been told.
Everything else
Is vanished in the maze
Of weather, memory,
Sand, dust, dirt, clay, mud, earth.
Hail to what is now,
The descendants of Ozymandias,
The remains of Tutankhamen,
The blow of Aristotle,
Nothing could be now
Without anything that has been.
We
Just happen.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 11:50 PM UTC
All of a sudden,
Words strike
Bringing form to forms,
Images to images,
A torpid reality
Of shades, of maybes,
Of what we think.
All of a sudden
These words surprise
Into something new,
Unsaid, untouched,
Unscouted, unbelieved.
All of sudden
Words turn to maps,
To directions in the fog,
To whistles in the woods,
Magnetic fields,
Useless until discovered.
New words,
New worlds,
New sense of living,
Something new
Put into pages
To remark time,
Characters, faces,
Traces, History.
Hail to what has been
And could have been told.
Everything else
Is vanished in the maze
Of weather, memory,
Sand, dust, dirt, clay, mud, earth.
Hail to what is now,
The descendants of Ozymandias,
The remains of Tutankhamen,
The blow of Aristotle,
Nothing could be now
Without anything that has been.
We
Just happen.
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