That ancient art of the word

A river blocked by the thirsty dam

Of modern offices

Hoarding the treasure of our words

Come, child, bring the water to me,

Speak of your triumphs

In sunny landscapes

Pry open my shy lips

To ask you questions

About your adventures

In the verdure of June

In the waves of August

And the gold of November

Where you gather happiness

For the hours of silence

That births new suns and systems

Of words sharp and clear

That divide dream from reality

Bone from marrow, psyche from mind

And then again suture them together

Come with your heart full of blossoms

And let my breath ripen them

Into a harvest of forever

The light of my eyes

Endow them with veils of truth

Evil Time can never penetrate

And make the word immortal

Once again

Ships sailing from London

Carry your heart’s sweet enchainment

But in my ears the songs

Are unfettered to gulp the dew

Of timeless freedom

Let them whisper the goods

Of the burdened ships

To each other like mindless robots

Me and you are tween

Between us worlds are born

The Word Lives

And no sin can besmirch

Its bright new glory

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