To the sound of words I pay homage
They could be anybody’s
I acknowledge language pierces through me
A composite nature of neuron hungry
For a world that is describable to sense
Not native to noble origin, but
Managing emotional being tremendously
Quick witted, humorous, proud
I am an imperfect soul in an imperfect world
It’s chaos here, on the News, fabricated
In the city, where conflict is orchestrated
To the sound of words I must return
They belong to everyone
I acknowledge the rite of music
In passing, in brief experience, that repeats
We are rustic emblems of mythology
Patriots and parrots of change, revolution is
Not distinct from acts of good or evil
We are instruments, there’s only time
We are the droop of light on a short flight
We are the soul besides unreal ideas
And manifest destiny in small terms
With gorgeous nonsense by our side
To explain it all, yielding I am sure we go on
With just enough imagination to accept
What we believe is possible to feel delight
For the tremendous unknown, the future
Evolution determines that we delight in it
Like the new stuff of what our daughters might communicate.
Wuji Seshat 
Love it, especially “With just enough imagination to accept”. I think that sums up how a sensitive person can go on living in this dreary world
That’s a stunning comment, great addition to the tone of all of this.
Thanks, was heartfelt
I get some lovely authentic comments, it helps my morale.
Your morale is self healing my friend. With a gift like yours, you have only to tell yourself your own words 🙂
I admit you have a point there, mantras are for lovers and words are for hungry mortals.
When you are both, you can chant and speak yourself to satiety
It gets quite old fast though hehe
What else is a poet’s mind for if not for instant innovation and manifestation?
I’ll take that, it’s enough to be Krishna for a day, Rumi for an hour.
absolutely beautiful…I must say I have been missing your posts lately..
That’s too sweet, I like hearing such things why of course!