The Word Loses Its Verve


The written down Word
      loses its verve,
Artifacts served
      in the making.

That of Before,
      happens no more.
Once is enough
      for the taking.

For birds in the trees,
      no meaning to please.
It’s the tricks of the trade,
      they are faking.

And they pass it along,
      unwritten in song –
The protocols, all,
      they’re creating.

Alive in the Flux!
      That’s all – Not much.
But it beats the concrete
      of re-stating.

Where texts are discrete,
      pictures complete;
Once done, they are gone –
      No retaking.

The meaning of life?
      Not stop in mid-strife!
The Flux is the clutch
      of Becoming.

The written down Word
      loses its verve,
Cause it’s caught
      by its write
Or wrought meaning.

©2015, Marvin Welborn
25 February 2015

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