Innocence Challenged

Communication echoes
Peer into an infant’s eyes
Winding into deep fathoms
Revealing a vast everything that was
Flooded by wellspring’s primordia rebirth.

Wading ashore,
That place beyond the vacillation
Of a fog-shrouded shore,
Waits the language of one’s making.

Bonded by the unknown,
Its sound is mercurial,
Its images know little of their genesis.

To touch the invitation
Is to be seared and frozen,
Its aromatic essence,
That of history’s musty pages,
Yearning for future linguistic inventions

Finally

Its gustation blends
A thesaural palate with
Colors of incomparable bouquet,

Arpeggios beyond the key of anything,
Flowered fragrances yet to bloom,
And Time’s serene protection in shadowed space.

Such is the idiom of one’s creation,
One’s imagination,
The Berlitz of the mind,
Expression’s vocabulary

Becoming a living lexicon,
Even for those who cannot read.