I tire of my old language. <br />So many words <br />no longer fly. <br />I'm left to ponder: <br />Who am I? <br />It seems so strange <br />that in my mind, <br />I can open doors <br />so wide, up to the sky, going far into rooms <br />containing many new wonders to find. <br />Yet on this wrinkled paper <br />it's all ancient, <br />old and dusty. <br />A few scattered syllables, <br />dank and musty. <br />How many times, <br />by how many people <br />in how many ways <br />can words be flown? <br />... perhaps as many, <br />and as much <br />as the air can be breathed <br />that's millions of years old... <br />As long as people have <br />been breathing, <br />they have been speaking. <br />The air will continue on, <br />refreshing. <br />I hope the words <br />shall also.<br /><br />Smoky Hoss<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unreasonable-words-an-abstraction-of-reason/
