Within our langue, we find us, aura of place.
This while life's trapped meanings, words,
paroled, evoked thus, gesture one
through one, and no other.
While without, betwixt words, languid lessons,
failing to be learned, detail broad-strokes
of reality's brush painting us, the canvas,
the world, framelessly framed.
Yet, languorless, from a bird's eye,
this insight, inner flight to soul's
fathomless essence, unweaves
self's tapestry, to begin anew,
a word, path of study, walked it's way.
A time redefined by what's sublime, communal
solutioning concentrating, sans frontieres.
Shimmering stream to babbling brook's nook.
Thanx for reading my twig of poetree, commenting and all you All do. From the French, 'sans frontieres', meaning, without borders; as in Doctors Without Borders = Médecins Sans Frontières. Have a cool 'noon :) reality
