Tongue of the Silent Mind

2/27/2021

When I have felt like speaking but had no words to say,

I wonder what has transpired to keep my tongue so clipped.

And so... I write.

I write the deepest waters that traverse my soul;

I write the shallow pools of frivolity and sheer nothingness;

I write the purity and love that is cloistered about the slowly ebbing shore of my heart.

What Mountain has kept my rivers from pouring freely and vast upon the valley which has long been so dry? There is no dam to hold me back from satiating the thirst of these pages.

I am overflowing with the life that is within me mixed with bitter turmoil and unrequited passions.

I am lonely here, save for the parchment set before me.

My mind rages twixt anguish and joy.

Who would have a place for a wandering thought like me?

It would seem that no one has the compassion to pick up my parchments and take me for the soul within.