Lost Words

The words from printed pages drift in and out
Some stay to play about then drift onward
Many are silent while still others boldly shout
They fly higher than any other earthly phrase or word.
Page after page of this Sacred Book I absorb into this mind
Will I ever find perfection in this life so absurd
Or will I be lost to another horrible place where there is no time?
I cannot keep all these words for they escape me like a frightened bird
They turn around and hide themselves from me
I try so hard to remember what they say and where they are
Yet they crumble before my eyes and fall into darkness silently
In walls of concete with no doors ajar
The mind is a powerful gift in itself
Why does mine rest aloof upon a dusty cabin’s shelf?

Written by Sybil Shearin
(c) 12-2003

This entry was posted on 250207H Jan 2011 and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.

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