a wise one stands atop the moon,
listening with intent,
the meaning of the words he hears
are often what’s not meant.
for every word, a variation
whose meaning could be lost,
to lose the breadth of a billion words
comes at such a cost.
for love embeds inside each word,
if fumbled, as it rolls,
but the meaning stands,
each word commands,
when spoken from our souls.
so charmed with love,
the mundane spells,
we chant throughout the day,
when nuance fails, what we can’t hear,
or mischannel what we say.
the truest uttered with great regard,
what’s said with no regret,

the most beautiful things I’ve ever cooed,
with language as my pet.
in what I savor the most to conjure,
voiced with affinity
those soundwaves bounce through time and space,
into infinity.