The Tomb of Words

I dreamt that all poems were written

and that we’d write poems no more

a silence of words fell across the land

every language and every tongue

And when I tried to write the words

into a new and different form

to be original and and to be alive

the words would form no more

And all the words settled into an order

and all the thoughts followed in turn

and all the minds went rigid within

and all the voices sounded along

Neither good nor evil nor hot nor cold

the words fell as an invisible rain

upon the soundless empty souls

and new thought was frozen solid

I woke to find that all the words

had congealed upon my tongue

my mouth too full to spit them out

my throat too narrow to swallow

I woke to find that all the poems 

had been reduced to dust

what was important is not now

and the words interred into tombs

These tiny tombs did not hold

the dreaming words were unquiet

the ghosts of thoughts rose to haunt

my hopes of waking poems once more.

jeg.

10/16