There is no time left.
Nothing left to do but Speak.

Words tumble out like pebbles,
tiny stones spilling from a Child’s Hand
too small to contain them,
too wild to restrict them.

Mineral and rock pinch the Souls of Feat,
jewels with soft, sparkly edges catch the light
just so,
just so.
Threads are formed.

Strands like lightning flashes,
like Snake’s tongue,
quick and sharp.
Look away and you’ll miss it.

And the thread remains,
sometimes so thick it burns
my fingers as I weave it under,
I weave it over.

I weave it with filaments so thin
the moisture from my skin might dissolve these
beloved
golden
ringlets.

Words form tapestries,
curtains,
shimmering webs to hang in windows,
catching Moonlight,
catching Stars and Truth.

It’s best to write these words in
delicate ink,
silvery strings that loop into o’s and s’s and p’s.

And Voice gives them Life.

Remember to read Them out loud.
Re-member to dream Them out loud.

Published by myriam khouzam

i am interested by life's simple intricacies. i am silence and noise. i am duality. i am a raw treat making, yoga teaching, dog walking lover of life.

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: