those silent letters

 

like those silent letters
within words
which inform meaning
yet have no aural substance,
do our illusions
obscure ‘reality'..
how we blind ourselves to these!
or is it that familiarity, that comfort
which so deadens our response?
why then do these silent beasts
so perturb me?
today poses more questions
than answers..
is it so within our innate
constitution to complicate
what is merely simplicity?
I tire of elaboration,
wish merely to get to
the crux of things..
I have no time for embroidery,
but like simple patterns
which speak unadorned truth;
delay is a crime, detour pointless..
sing me the sounds that speak
directly to my heart,
my soul, and I will mouth
praises for eternity!
even learning to love
the clumsy, burdensome,
myriad manifestations
which form the rich,
unexplored tapestry
of my waking dreams..