Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Truth Among the Words

I have no incoming filter
Or so it seems,
And so your words insinuate
They breed and incubate
From their dormancy
And only later on
Some days or years
Through some trick to time and place
Do they come forth, rising on such occasion.
 
And so I hear you voice in mine
And I stop mid-sentence
Mid-stream in the flow of thought
And surprised and confounded
I must visit with you.
 
But what your voice has to say
I carefully push away
For I fear the truth
Among the words
Reminding me of things I know
And fearing I’ll disappoint you so.
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