Let the Words of My Mouth

Let the words of my mouth have backbone Buoyed by the sinew of thoughtless thoughts May they be freely formed and fashioned On the smooth surface of an unyielding anvil Hammered in the heat of passion’s angst Molded in the flame of sightless vision Nurtured by the touch of unfelt hands Polished in the innocence of love’s longings For how else will they be my words If stolen, reshaped, reworked, weakly rekindled Would I not be but a chirping echo Scratching at a stained-glass soul Would that my words and meditations Be the reflection of my heart’s belief Set free within the moments calm To stir a gently passing breeze