These words that I’m writing <br />are not really my own…. <br /> <br />no word belongs to me just <br />for the sake of me knowing <br />it, speaking it, loving it <br />A word has a life of its own and <br />can evolve into a song, <br />or prose…. <br />it can fly into the night, <br />never to return <br />or be placed in a bottle for <br />someone to find <br />on a distant shore…. <br /> <br />These words are not my own <br />but I still speak it, form it <br />and mould it on my tongue <br />tasting the syllables as if <br />I can swallow it and be <br />satisfied that I can keep it. <br /> <br />For now, at least, these words <br />are at my table and I can <br />feast upon it.<br /><br />YURI DURAAN<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/feast-of-words-2/
