When the words come to us
Out of nowhere and everywhere
At once, with ease

Or, more often perhaps
Wrestled grindingly
Or gingerly, as the case may be
Sounded out, as grist from stone

Phrases spring forth, fully formed
As a clear, clean fount from fissure

Beautiful jewels found in dry creek beds
Under burnt out lampposts
Unexpectedly, in dirtied sheets like
Cracker crumbs

Words wrest
And in such form found
A nest

To nestle in, a safety
In surety, these letters fall
In sequence

Or a sailing, hailing ship
Proudly purchased in the age of piracy
Oceans now ossuaries, barren battlefields
Boasting boats hewn from greater oaks

Hulls of honed paragraphs
Cutters of sliver sentences

Slicing through the chaos, free
To orient us on maritime maps
So that we are not lost on the churning sea
Of a dark past illuminated so flickeringly

By solitary neuron spark
All we want is not to be alone in the dark

Words that make you fall in love with the world
Bit by bit they unveil
The unknowable beloved, the Mystery

Only to reveal
Her war wounds and ravages of pain
How can something so beautiful
Drive us so plainly insane

When the syllables rhyme
Make the brain go brrr
Wax lyrical, entwine

Must be how history sees
Maybe that's why
Things happen in threes

And why muses so inspire
Us to see truth in lies
And stories in stochastic glories
Narrative structure in nematode muster

Souls in sequences of symbols
Flown the feather weight of ink
Spilled as if we spelled
Swim upstream, even as we sink

Patter recognition
Sit for a spell and listen
To a wild, shimmering yarn, woven weirdly
As we go, from nothing, to glisten

© inkcloud