Words

                                       Words

Words are not some squiggles that are written on a page,
Carvings in a block of clay inscribed by long dead sage.
Heritage and history were songs of ancient bards,
Singing wisdom left behind – remaining poem shards.

Words are like the knots that tie galactic fishing net,
Family, lovers, closest friends we never will forget,
Light that binds the galaxies by flooding heavens night,
Relationships among us, giving life delight.

Words are only tokens of galactic fishing net
That catches every passion and heartbreak that we get.
Growing every moment somewhere behind our eyes
Our legacy to warp drive times, bequeathed past our demise.

© David W. Oliver 6/15/09