Jolly Muhury Samui Poet Free verse

Canticles of the Unbound

From riven ways and lent-for heaven’s vault
we clime on breath enwrit with slender ink,
each word a sworn avouchment ’gainst the dark,
each line a stout denial unto Lethe.

Hands erst in thrall do now the aether shape
with sigils forged of cinder, ash, and balm;
the orphan’s moan, the widow’s fervent cry,
lie twinn’d upon one consecrated leaf.

No tongue herein is beggared or despised—
the hush’d confession, clamant plea alike;
the scripture born of weal and wounded flesh
doth pace as peers in kingly even-stead.

We sing of marches loos’d from iron will,
of Right relearning how to quicken fair;
for Peace is not engender’d out of hush,
but sired by heedful ear to elder griefs.

This labour is no idle courtly sport,
nor dalliance of metre, wit, and breath—
it is a synod call’d by mortal hope,
where Mercy mounts the throne of trembling Fear.

Here, in these staves, the world recalls itself:
that Freedom waketh when all tales are weigh’d,
and Concord draweth first untroubled breath
when every soul long mute is bid to sing.

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