Wordless

Wordless

I am getting tired:
Tired of being tired,
And now tired of that too…

But,
I am changing,
From what into what,
I do not know; wish not to know,
And to just let it be, and unfold to me.
This wish itself feels odd,
But not without its reward:
The desire to know all,
Is departing my tired mind;
The mind which would desire then,
To translate its knowing into words.

And what are words after all…
Except for a waste of a poet’s Life,
And what are words after all,
But a cheap alternate for feeling,
And what are words after all,
But solace, in a time of healing!?
And what do words mean?
When chanted by lingering Death…
And what do words mean?
When whispered on an angel’s breath…

And what are words but loose feathers,
And what are words but wings!
What are words but Cupid’s arrows,
Or bullets in the chests of kings!
And what are words but bitterness,
And what are words but a smile,
What are words but knots in the tying,
What are words but a passing while!

Written:
08-08-2013