Words of spite in their wayward flight,
From unconscious places to weeping ears,
From dark holes to windy candles,
From spiteful mouths to sensitive spaces,
From dark caves to iridescent streams,
From shifting sands to fragile houses,
From devil’s playgrounds to emaciated ice,
From sleepy minds to stagnate receptacles,
From darkened truths to baby’s eyes,
From dramatic rites to quiet gardens,
From screeching piccolos to peaceful ballrooms,
From thunderous uprisings to clear blue waters,
From angry astronomers to the order of the skies,
From greedy mouths to justly apportionments.
Words of spite move in one direction
Upon a one way street,
Ne’er to go back again.
 
The return is like winter returning to autumn,
The orbital motion reversing direction,
The oceans running into brooks,
The rain soaring up to the skies,
The flowers growing back into the seed,
The rainbows bringing on the rain,
The truth emerging from the untruth,
The paradise seeking the agitated soul,
The lust cooling down the desire,
The fire putting out the blaze,
The tomorrows climbing back into the past,
And the probables returning back to the nevers.
Words are gone forever, ne’er to return.

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Nelson D Reyes
over 3 years

Love the metaphors. You own the words you say and they can come back and drown you like a riptide. Like. Thanks Robert.

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Nelson D Reyes
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