Wednesday, August 21, 2013

He took a word

He took a word, cutting it
carefully from the dictionary,
making sure the edges were
straight and aligned.
He took the word, holding it
gently in his hand, then buried
it as a seed, and waited until
it took root and sprouted.

The word grew. Empires rose
and fell, disappearing into dust
finer than white sand. A thousand
suns rose, set, and burned
themselves to cinders, as planets
journeyed in preordained orbits
until breaking free from gravity’s
pull, moving into darkness.

Still the word grew.
Still the root endured.

Photograph by Ian L via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.


Maureen said...

One of your best, Glynn.

Martha Jane Orlando said...

Amen, my friend, amen!

Anonymous said...

it did a whole lot better than my sunflowers did this year. my fault though, as to the dirt and feeding. hope to have another chance at it next year.

i would like to plant a word like the one in your poem.

Rick Dawson said...

Well done, sir - well done!

S. Etole said...

remarkable ...

a joyful noise said...

May I guess what that word was?
It must be LOVE. I say you again at Rick's Saturday shortcuts.