A Secret Planting

For time out of time I have plowed a furrow of words; like seeds they have been to me for I grew with them, and they spoke for me when I fell silent and could only scribble upon my breath. Still and all, a symbolic forest sprang up from these words; from the best of them a forest-fire bloomed, where the charred scrub crumbled into ash new words were born their meanings ever changing and where they rewrote themselves a green significance rose to the high treetops fresh views appeared, there each far-seeing word uttered became one more step beyond the known.