those silent letters

like those silent letters

within words

which inform meaning

yet have no aural substance,

do our illusions

obscure ‘reality'..

how we blind ourselves to these!

or is it that familiarity, that comfort

which so deadens our response?

why then do these silent beasts

so perturb me?

today poses more questions

than answers..

is it so within our innate

constitution to complicate

what is merely simplicity?

I tire of elaboration,

wish merely to get to

the crux of things..

I have no time for embroidery,

but like simple patterns

which speak unadorned truth;

delay is a crime, detour pointless..

sing me the sounds that speak

directly to my heart,

my soul, and I will mouth

praises for eternity!

even learning to love

the clumsy, burdensome,

myriad manifestations

which form the rich,

unexplored tapestry

of my waking dreams..