Sunday, November 15, 2009


Aces are my acme, my apex of a dream,
Where words take off at night;
A vocabulary avian assortment,,
Eagles the simile of youth’s flight,
I digress to pure BS,

Words folded in a paper,
By a poet, scribe, or pope…
Sent to a friend or hidden
In a sealed envelope.

Preserved communication
Delivered, thoughts, some not revealed.
A lover’s pledge unopened,
One’s heart, forever concealed.

A history relies upon,
Discovered written lines,
Humans leave their cryptic messages,
Informal, graffiti of the times.

Letters through the ages,
Meant romance was delivered,
Messages wrongly interpreted,
Leave lives chopped up and slivered.

There are letters for the public,
Etched upon a block of stone.
Displayed on a public building,
Or grave markers, standing alone.

Libraries maintain archives,
Storing the words in stacks…
Some times statements most profound,
Unopened, sealed, stamped in wax.

Words often found years later,
Unravel a world’s history.
Interpreted and now deciphered,
Open up an era’s mystery.

This universal uttering
The eulogy of naïve youth,
Prove words shatter souls like glass
As ever, isolated, ordinary truth.

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