Except for these words,
which are sacrosanct,
all of my other words
are of little or no value.
Take no heed,
when you read them,
as they are but poor and distant relatives
to the words written by the great writers.
The heroes of yesteryear
are mighty indeed;
and, let me not mislead you
when I say that I
am not worthy to lick their metrical feet,
and can no more compete with them
than a nail recite ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’.
Fade. To nothing. Leaving no trace.
Just a page of empty space.
And so it goes.
Empty spaces beg to be filled …
Empty minds allow visions to unfold, rather than force daily rituals to bind.
Our minds, one finds, are like watermelon rinds – but, how so, I could not say. Bon nuit, Cage. 🙂