Innocent Risk
Communication becoming…
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,
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’s language of the unknown.
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.
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