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TornFromTheRoots — Ode on a Poets Tongue
Published: 2005-12-07 05:30:22 +0000 UTC; Views: 207; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 6
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Description
What makes the mind sigh and pause withA lack, not of thought, or love, or
Any matter close t’ that of myth,
But with skill, and power, and tongue
That can seem to shape all the more
Subtle and sublime shards to light,
That we seem to have hid among
When we lack the power to fight?
Have these shards piercèd that tongue more
Now that there is need? Now that there
Is want? And do you now lack store
To find a piece of perfect fit,
When at any other time th’ air
Would but breeze and the melody
Would sing strong and sweet, and submit
To that long tune of rhapsody?
And how might songs o’ Rhythm an’ Rhyme
Find the time to collaborate,
When it can barely spark, and I’m
Left with not but jumblèd lines?
Will that spark ever come to fate,
And rest on the immortal plains?
Or will it stop short with the signs
Of a torn and crackled remain?
And yet, the power does not lie
In the immortality, but
Rather with the time spent, applied
To the search and personal qualm
With a made decision, or cut.
And when that plight diminished
There is a sense of knowing calm:
A good work is never finished.
