Sunday, January 13, 2013

In Language of Souls

A Lark harkens to the laughter inside
the thoughts and emotions leading to which instead.
We work and fork reality led, to peddle faster
down rolling hills laughing-

at least alive

and that laughter sharing our souls embrace
alights like starlings on branches space
There is no thing, no boson of fun
but the laughter and companionship
rolls round our head, in effusive
collaborative creation fashioned
a language of souls like trees talking to dead
a synergy, a chemistry, a synthesis of energy
in networks of language, Like English! we live

so starlings perch

though I should predicate
that navel gazing can take all day
just as one can poke fence posts in rows
for birds to arrange notes and chime tides of light
calling hours solemn or sparkled
A lark or a starling childs of morn

and poets pontificate

As ordained ministers of truth and beauty
in the houses of lords
like said masters of hawthorne
License granted by proof of effort
we marry truth and beauty
and divorce hate and war
Wishing Merry or Forlorn
to share a piece of themselves
Like said Starling in the language of souls
simply communing, simply us.

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