I think that’s also why we write: to share our thoughts/inspirations with others.
In a silence broken only by breath
Words lose their sound;
Spill their essence on the pristine page
Or curl in tendrils through a mind undone,
Fleeing logic on wings of fantasy.
Fabled spectres rear their heads,
Horned dilemmas bow before a ghost
Of newborn Understanding,
Mewling helpless in a night
Of infant shadows.
The dreamer dreams the song,
Seeking music in a voice,
A poem in the starlit dark
To break the silence
And give birth to sound.
Muted whispers kiss the soul
That stays to listen in the darkness
Reaching for the Word it almost hears
Until it knows the only sound
Is life’s first breath
Sighing in the silence.
There are joys for which we cannot find expression, moments that have a depth of emotion that can only be shared in images. It is here that poetry comes into its own, for the pictures we paint…
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