Wordsmith..

I gleaned from the random speech of fools:
For the wordsmith, the word is a material. !
I learned to dream the dream that I want —
I realized that the word Organic existed.

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I am looking for the inspiring words that live
as beauty somewhere in the creative phrases —.
The words - which are my material - are a wordsmith's metal.
And my muses are a melting pot, an oozing hall.

I hammer on the text anvil and forge the words into —,
an ornament of words which mirrors the eternal game —.
I dip my pen in the magical water —.
There it takes the shine of the land of the stars.

I separate the vowels from my words.
I put them away like stones on my table. . .
I call every sound a bright diamond —,
which hides its resonance in a dull consonant.

I throw my words into a smoky retort,
and separates every disfiguring murmur —.
I fetch from the crucible - a shining stone,
a sonorous vocal that is piercingly clean.

I want my words to be a stone in my hand,
a living substance, which is a glimpse of my spirit —,
the inspiring words- in whose eternal play
is a living dream - which exists.!"!

TsL 2024
#poems