Our Language Conundrum

The language of mind
respects that of syllable and consonant,
especially while revering emotion’s rainbow shades of peace,
the honeysuckle scent of love,
the molten clash of hate.

For just as the mind’s abstract rivers of prescient wisdom
amidst sequestered nests of learning
meander through mountains of winged feathers and fur,
so too the untethered learning ambition bears down,
confronting survival.

Through avid synaptic sparks
setting afire illusory thoughts
there comes our personal molten tendrils of eruption in waiting.

Our once-ungrounded thoughts fall toward the abyss,
Man's cauldron of options,
where unexpected light
outside the prison of fear and compliance
renders asunder the poet’s deaf-prone-blindness.

The alchemy of time waits patiently within,
as yesterday’s derision burns bright beneath one’s darkness.

Quiet inspiration is born…

Unseen

Untouched

Unheard

Oh, how hallowed
our inner-chorus of sound in harmony.

The alchemy of voices…. trying.