Unweaving The Wyrd
Omnis in hic sum…
Writers write to understand. Axiom.
Alchemists in a dungeon. Thinking magick.
Realistically demanding the impossible.
Trying to tell what must not be told.
To explicate the woven Wyrd.
Peal the tale. Clang word changes.
Words become deeds. Deeds words.
Chanted memories of the Cynn.
Sung by Scops. Mantic. Alive.
Feeling things not understood.
First, last, in between, without end.
Things intuited, not comprehended.
Spectacular. Ordinary. Ecstatic. Troubled.
Struggling to be worthy of themselves.
Practicing successive language experiments.
Caught up in the dazzling fluidity of words,
Until language, not person, thinks and speaks.
Listening to humanity’s sad, silent music.
Trying to blow life into its lonely,
barren quintessence of dust.
Forever in a frenzied rush, for:
Envious time doth ever slide.
This single day is what they own.
Tomorrow they may be denied.
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