Flowing off a tongue, words seeped in soul contemplation
a thought stored in heart, voiced in constemation;
for meaning, greater than a hollowness in a mute enounce
wrought through by doubt, of why they should so resound.
Spoken in that twisted language known for it's unknowing
captures whispering word, of another's thoughts bestowing
it upon a limited and descriptive, burst in quite verse
there lays a beauty, in truth shyly locked away in time.
For all who may doubt, the winds of thought so brought
despair in one's seeeking for more than sould thought words
a clarity is that said, which comes from heart not head
truth, quiet shouted nouns or verbs, so completely read.
To waste away and forget on one moment's truth and shame
is to face, one more daring and fear filled day to come
for a word to become as closed, within an unspoken soul
is to languish in a void, as one's true thoughts unfold.
3 comments:
Why fear wat u don't understand
and then it leaves a period of doubt
words dwell in your heart
but not in your mouth
stop for a moment and curse the day
you forgot what's what and what's not to saY
for if it mattered, but it probably doesn't;
who cares? u did as you wanted...
art is self expression.
to bring meaning to others through ones art, it must only be meaningful to oneself.
only you know when YOU are thirsty... leave a bowl of water out for others that they may quench their thirst in their own time
selfishness in ones art is virtue beyond measure.
yours eternally,
Dee
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