Thursday, August 9, 2012

The Curse of Hermes

Words are free
No ranchero can corral them
They must bristle through every cell
In a galactic honeycomb,
The bees whose limbs distill them
Single-minded on their queen.


the walking man said...

Succinct again and true as true can be. Well said Sir!

erin said...

ok, ok, ok, so we the bees single-minded on our queen. this brings me back to the possibility of there being one word only, and each word, or what we think of as words, being only letters or sounds. if were are to condense all of language what might we distill? that which we are single-minded about, the nameless which ironically holds every sound as its one name.

(or so it is seeming more and more likely to me. this is exciting.)


William A. Sigler said...

Exciting yes, Erin. In the beginning was the word and in the beginning was the pure light/love of source creator. Distilling the word distils this essence, ever bearing in mind that this word has multiple meanings, or more precisely, multiple dimensions of meaning.