Friday, 28 June 2013

What is a word?


What is a word, but a thought trapped in time?
Seeming to float, with myriad meanings, to float on an invisible line.

What is a voice, but a thought, in sound?
A flaying of reason, a reason to float, a thought, perhaps drowned?

What is courage, if yet, I cannot speak?
Where go my feelings, if I fail, become weary… weak?

Who am I, but a transient pilot… a soul…?

What is a soul?  I think you know.
You’ve gazed upon mine and I on yours.

You can’t touch it, can’t feel it,
Can’t buy it, can’t steal it.

It nestles, they say in the heart.

What is heart?

A million fingers point. A million sighs are breathed.
In the end, it only matters if a heart given is received.

If one becomes two, and two become one…
Then to those two concerned, half the work is done…