Seconds pass
into an overbearing silence.

Holding my breath...

A lull in my chest -
nothingness that
seemed to stretch into forever.

•••

Just a bit more...
before the lungs would relent.

And the heart would speak again.

I proffer words
in an apology.

In hopes
they may turn the tide.

Akin
to the release of white doves.

So I might revive
a notion that’ve died.

Do you relish the sound of the spoken word?

Do you savour the way it engulfs the senses
in a whirlwind of joy and despair?

Anguish and patience...
Doubt and surety...
Land and sky...
Beauty and darkness...

Do you drink it up to a stupor,
and only hope you had the laden voice
to even emulate a fraction of the splendour...

The tiniest spark of the genius
that comes so easily for those
who are one with themselves?

It's the honesty and truth.
The seed that resides within
the covering of sweet or bitter flesh.
The meaning and purpose behind every emotion,
thought...
and spoken word

- that has me ensnared

always...

•high in the
mountains, he grew we-
ary                 and ragged•
•                     his sight turned
                           cloudy, chin un-
                             shaven and face hag-
                                    gard•removed his boots
                                    for his feet did stink•
                                  sleep he wanted but not
                                without a drink•one big
                              swig and he downed it all•
                        then he was asleep before the
                      sun could fall•many days visited,
             many shadows cast•over this slum-
     bering man, many moons had passed
•one fateful day, his eyes did twitch
and then did open•he sprung aw-
ake to the life he had forsaken•his
musket dusty, his clothes in di-
sarray•his chin - a long beard
that has seen countless days•he
ran to his home before noontime
chime•he found only disbelief, for he had slept




a lifetime•