The Beginning of Words

In the time our blood recalls

Voices lyrical as honey

Dropped their fertile seeds

Within our hearing,

Blooming into so many dreams

Words had to follow.

 

Words had to follow

Exploding like stars

Waking up the night

With their orbits of sound,

Flying out of our mouths

Like flocks of birds

Navigating  the

Flyways between us,

Feathering the blue heart

Of the otherwise silent sky

With that remembered mother

Of language:  music.

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