Meaning Of Being

never ceases to amaze – even if only words
strung on a page each sentence therein has
something which when read conspires in an
essence veiled until exact phrasing relieves
its delicately embedded scent

and there it is with an ageless wonderment
as old as the first written word, maybe the
one praising an incredulous idea shared as
too precious to be kept aloof or silenced for
dread it might be mislaid

it is there the power of verse reveals what
some came to fear, messages sensed more
in feelings than words, a showing-off of the
raw cost of pretentiousness, for level fields
and common room

not rhyme or metric rhythm bared in a soul
unglimpsed – though better for regular beat
the words seized eyes, attuned ears, drew
awe aching into a fundament of belief, of a
language as the meaning of being
© 16 November 2012, I. D. Carswell