To see an answer held ransomed
By a thought lost in time
Is to see an inheritance lost
By skipping a generation
And proceeding down the wrong road
From where the beginner sent it off.
Why are words the things that seem plentiful
In the midst of lots of other ideas
That seem to get pushed aside
Or unattainable?
Words persist
In spite of everything else.
They cannot be shaken
They cannot be forsaken
They cannot be done without
For they do me from within.
A fresh awakening
Awaits the listener
For in the midst of the words,
There is life
And gain
And justice
Not just a turning of verse
For the pleasing of the ear
But a deepening from the listening
That will open up doors.
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Books by Marty
www.amazon.com/author/reep
Marty Reep 