Thursday, January 6, 2011

Written soul

Where words can't be spoken, I write
When they can't be written, I cry
And when enough tears have been wept
When all is said, there's nothing left
That's when a new page is turned

And in all that blank which lies ahead
There's still so much yet to be had
There's all, there's none, and then there's that
The chance, the choice, the newest path
That's when you find you've learned

Withal, the steps I choose not to take
Become as vital, and perharps as great
As the longest journeys I'm yet to commence
Within each word, though written or enhanced
Amidst the reticence I intend

*quadro de Marcio Melo - A cortina de renda

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