Words&Dirt

Language is a brushing broom,
Sweeps intent and dusts desire,
When it first reaches us, so far away,
Yet within, the only force we know,
Rushing forth from cradle’s cover.

Language is a learning lamp,
Gathers fuel and sets ablaze,
Dark discoveries of limit and loss,
Every chance of loyalty and love,
Empty echoes on a classroom floor.

Language is a building block,
Lifts us over and somehow through,
Shadows of old nightmares, caught,
Portals to new adventures, open,
Seething edge of possibility.

Language is a teaching time,
Spreads out wide and gathers close,
Oncoming calamity, disintegrating hope,
Brings fragile order to robust chaos,
Preparing the next ones for battle.

Did you ever, ever think,
Did you ever, ever think,
Did you ever, ever think,
It would be like this?

Language is a trembling tone,
Unsure again and slowly sinking,
Lost phrases, repeated words,
The want to be heard with no one listening,
The tongue tired, and retired.

Did you ever, ever think,
Did you ever, ever think,
Did you ever, ever think,
It would be like this?