Love and Words


can it be?


I remember what it was like,

back when I spoke

a language

that I owned.

My words

were like pearls of fire

that trued the life around me,

and everything I saw

I called by name

and was master,

and caretaker,

of it all.

Imagine my surprise.


After so much time

passed in silence,

so much time


to hear my name called

in that language


To hear my name.

Can it be,

that what I thought was silence,

was a dialogue carried on

by my soul?

Can it be,

that none of this lost time,

was lost at all?


decagon          poetry



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