With But Words

For those of us relying on language as sustenance, one's lexicon of nourishment must be continually fed.

With But Words

Lungs of time

Forever purging yesterdays fever and chills
clueless of ether's match for now
today's fresh intake of memories waiting
no longer a calm awakening
our ears await the sound

By chance

While morning may coughing bring
sending dream's breath asunder
caring not for the sparrow's retreat from sill
or the disturbed peace of
last nights pages at rest

We stir

How vacuous early hours may seem
as thought takes leave of dreaming's insistent clatter
begging caffeine's amorous embrace
even as inhaling ingests wakeful elements aroused

Soon

The pen is lifted
greeting Mind's quiet place
that realm where magic releases wonder
asking for voices yet explored

Patiently

Our unspoken words
our unwritten thoughts
awaiting vision's full awakening
take flight with the uptake some call
the Ah Hah moment of gratitude

We lean forward

The pen lifted
timely resonance delivers
today's sustenance
tomorrow's next pages
perhaps future's chance to ruminate