I
want to go where I am before words,
before
where words are curious faces
staring
down at me with inquiry,
as
if I am coming out of a coma
and
need to verbally account for myself.
I
want to go where recognition
as
the P.A. system cannot find me,
to
a place in nature where I am part
of
the choir of beings, all singing together,
where
the universal language spoken
between
rocks and trees,
the
sky and water and the breeze
is
an incessant universal language
and
I can speak it freely.
I want
to go away from words,
where
words were placards
that
had their moments and then tossed,
abandoned
on the floors of conversations passed,
and
drying in the blood of memory.
Where
words as poignancies, struck with venom
and
now are vacant as darkness has come and gone on.
Maybe
I am saying I want to go beyond words,
beyond
the keepsakes of words,
beyond
the safe deposit box of meanings.
I
want to go beyond
the
trampoline woven of words.
I
wanted from them,
the
leap that never lands again.
And
when I come back to words,
I
want them all to have a new life of their own,
to
not be domesticated,
to
not seek the solace of human understanding,
just
to be as free fall entities
caring
the weight of their responses into the universe.
Having
the life of noetic nomadic utterances,
honorably
present as ever presenting.
Yet
what words do (?),
that
they would seek the launch of speak
and
surrender to be in service
to
the human mind becoming as discourse,
is
as if to pass the gift to us,
this
sacred gift from them,
the
gift of meaningfulness
carried
by them, ever forward.
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