We create and define words
Revise the sensations to our deeds
Our hearts become silent painters
As our minds rumble and speak in tongue.
It wasn’t the wind, the fire or the rain
That aligned our comfort with such notions
But the chanting of the unknown
Declaring our freedom to speak
In some revelation of one’s own mind.
I would rather feel the warmth of your body
Than speak ten thousand words in tongue.
I would rather rest a mint upon your tongue
And let it slowly melt into your heart
Than to pronounce or define
The syllables of my love.
© Linda Moon