Every word is a translated thought, a transliterated feeling
loosing color and physical sensation
becoming vibration
from my body to breath,
vocal chords tensing together, the friction of life.
Prosidy, this attempt to melodically
describe the flight
from synapse into words
from me
to you
it's more than a syntax’s span
it's eons and lands
centuries and alphabets
darkness and light imbeuded on these hinges of sound
strained into symbols strung together, the creation of life.
