Written by Brenda Mox
A blank sheet in the book of being
sang to her the poetry of life.
Fashioned from the sinews of her dream,
a song on the lips of time.
Staring at the heart of space
watching unknown gods
whose soundless words address her sight.
Flocks of doves in flight.
Journeying to worlds
beyond space and time,
grasping at shadowy meanings
not clothes in words.
Or rhymes.
Her soul began to wander
amongst these infinite realms
where only in a poet’s dream
word fragments grow to unity.
With the eyes of her hearing,
across the face of these waters,
she will write her songs
here in the temple of talk.
Go, stand like giant
my fragmented ones.
Grow in unity until,
by your truths,
good deeds will get done.
Text © Brenda Mox
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