Journeys of understanding
Which words, my love, will
spin the tumblers of your mind?
I’ve tried so very many,
multitudes of sounds, meanings,
in so many pockets, bubbles
of vibrations combined in
varied ways, configurations,
to insert within your ears’ canals,
striving for harmonics in your
labyrinthine mind; miss the mark,
there’s no sound at all,
or deafening cacophony
yielding no meaning beyond
tortured dissonance, random
word salad sounding without
sense or dressing, so bitter
as to be bitterly spit out.
Sometimes, though, we get it right,
chords responding to more chords,
meanings heard within the harmony.
Senses play together such as
sight of horse, smell of manure,
touch of baby, sound of bawling ,
sunlight blinding or revealing
what must be scenes to be
believed and marveled at.
Words and minds make music;
translation is superfluous
when harmony’s power plays
within our very heartbeats,
proprioception so sublime,
synchronization keeping time
with meaning, nonsense,
order, chaos, death, life
all dancing together, so I
beseech you, my sweet love:
Open your eerie canals, allow
my penetrating keys to liberate
our thoughts, feelings, keeping time
to let yours interweave with mine.
~ Wry Welwood
26th of January 2022
written in response to Scrittura Wednesday prompt: broken locks.
attention: J.D. Harms.