Discovering Communication


To peer into an infant’s eyes
is to peer into deep fathoms,
revealing a vast everything that was,
flooded by wellspring’s primordia reborn.

Wading ashore to that place
beyond the ebb and tide
of a fog-shrouded shore
waits the language of one’s own making.

Bonded by the unknown,
its sound is mercurial,
its images unaware of its genesis.

To touch the invitation
is to chance being seared and frozen
into the aromatic essence
of history’s musty pages
reaching for future’s infinite yearning.

Finally,
its taste and touch blends
into a palate whose lexicon is of
colors nameless,
arpeggios outside the key of anything,
flowered fragrances awaiting discovery,
all for Time’s serenity of shadowed space.

Such is the idiom of one’s creation,
one’s imagination,
the Berlitz of mind,
merely the discovery of communication...

Even for those who cannot speak.