words once spoken

to speak to you again,
hearing all your words flowing,
meandering like two rivers,
converging as we meet,
talking about all those things
which stay constant on our minds,
a current book being read,
the way of words of others,
like Abbey or Momaday,
or to speak of the desert,
our joys and sadnesses there,
going in a multitude
of different directions
yet still coming back to one.
but again this will never happen
for then we parted,
each following separate paths,
never again to hear -
to feel the beauty of the words,
to feel the closeness of each other.

now words fly on the winds,
in ev'ry waking moment,
only to be heard mixing
in dreams, in thoughts,
late at night, remembrances,
appearing out of nowhere,
they follow as echoes
of a time long ago but
still always fresh in my mind.
i long to share with you
new books read, the beauty
of the language, the softness,
hypnotic in its rendering,
taking a person far away
to the places dreams are made,
no longer sharing the gift,
one so precious, like a jewel,
as gold is for others, each word —
a blessing — fills the heart,
nourishing the spirit constantly.

words, the music of the spirit,
giving new meaning to life,
yet oftentimes lost, they burn
as eternal fires sunrise to sunset,
at times almost flickering out,
but still there always lingering,
always in the deep recesses,
greeting each new day whether
it be dry like the deserts
or flowing like the rivers,
tumbling over all rocks
that arise in their path, or
like the sunsets splashing
across the sky, a profusion
of color, of life, the day coming
to an end with promises
of a new one tomorrow.
still, always there will be
a longing to share the beauty
of the words once spoken .

the wolf is my messenger

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