Words tumble from my mind,
falling down nerve endings.
Rolling free from my fingertips
one pecked out character at a time.
Gathering at the base
 in scree
boulders, rocks and dust.
Words, the foundation
once built upon to reach
toward heaven with temerity
cast down like Icarus
for reabsorption
into the oneness
of ever evolving intuition
that speaks incessantly.
Syncopation, rhythms unrefined,
take no notice of delineations,
proper or popular.
Working without boundaries
outside self constructed labyrinths.
Imprisoned indefinitely
with time to devise
their clever escape
making a way back to
Always seeking
to aid communication,
to elucidate what we
barely understand,
or have the capacity to define,
yet do so in hubris
and arrogance.
Words know they must
join together
in stanzas, paragraphs, and stories.
Make the attempt,
however feeble,
to provide understanding
of Creation.

M. Zane McClellan

Copyright © 2014
All rights reserved

* Originally Posted 29th May 2014