Feeble Tools

They are such feeble tools
And vulnerable,
When once laid down
And played in place
They should stand…
But instead they crumble
And falter.
One moment they are ablaze
With life elemental,
And then the next
Cold ash on hard ground.

Yet I reach for them
To try to build
My structure.
Word by word
A modest temple
A simple prayer
Stitched together
That I might gain a foothold
And perhaps return to draw more deeply.

Even now they work
But with the dullest edge
Not whet
Not stropped
They make a rough border
They cut so poorly
That I need to put them down,
Set them aside
And just listen.

It is there
In the quiet,
Fundamental and well written.

It is there,
Just be still and listen
Ever so silently,

Listen.