"writing poetry, starts in my soul, flows through my heart, up to my head, then it's out of my hands"
Monday, 8 August 2011
Unspoken
Unspoken
In the spaces,
the silence of those places,
weaves a thread of communion,
the glue between the moments,
of all that we were,
and how we grew, together,
a part of all that we knew,
woven into this fabric,
these gentle threads, of me and you.
For what cannot be said,
resounds in the deep oceans of our moment,
the waiting and the dread,
the unfathomable epiphany,
in the depths of this love.
The sounding bell echoes below,
leaking into this inky silence.
The reaches of those dark moments,
washed upon these beaches,
a fateful shallow echo,
of the silence in the depths of us.
The heaving heavy sighs,
hissing, seething, longing,
rushing upon our shores,
drawn back again,
down into the depths once more.
In the silence,
the whisper of all that we were,
swims in a sea of all we shall be... quietly!
a gentle fluid constancy,
unspoken.
© Richard Michael Parker 2011
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