too much talking

maybe it’s the age
or the stage
i’m in
but it seems strange
with so many words
our messages remain muddled.

much said,
volumes read,
little solved.
consensus cowers,
dangles like limp laundry
suspended on a back-yard clothesline.

constant chatter
signifying nothing.
everything,
talked to death.

even Lazarus opts out,
been here,
heard enough
prefers the silence
of a quiet space.

today I had a thought,
a fresh inspiration,
a flash of pure insight.
it needed a body.

words show up for the job,
laboring to define
the Nova,
my twinkling
streak of revelation.

sadly, the vision becomes indentured,
a slave to words
necessary for clarity.

soon, having been seduced
by too much talking,
the inspiration is shorn
of its power and
sliced into shreds
by the scissors of words.

one night last week
a mute lightening show
lit up the universe
over the Atlantic.

nature’s pure light
spoke
without sound.

can we tame our tongues,
rest our thumbs,
suppress the superfluous?

after all, how many words
are needed
for the Spirit to say,
“I love you anyway?”

Satis verborum—enough said.


Bud Hearn
October 28, 2016