By Echolocation |
Date: 2003 Mar 11
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Sometimes the task is not to say a thing|
Let silence be its own crown, unbroken,
Wrapped round we two in such a perfect ring
It would be marred by one word spoken.
To rightly speak I would need words as clean
As mountain spring or as the hawk's wild flight
Untouched by tongue or pen, unused, pristine
Sprung into life for this purpose, this night.
Let golden silence then be the honor
I give to things too perfect to be bound
By clumsy phrases; no words upon our
Lips as they meet, and speak without a sound.
Silence in its artful stillness achieves
Speech far clearer than any words might weave