Sound Knapping

Silence is amplified around you, warmonger.

You hurl speech like an ancient stone weapon;

crude and clumsy. I listen to your industry,

hear flakes of meaning lost to wild winds

as you purpose and point language, splinter

complex truths, surprised by the serendipity

of lucky missiles. My thoughts are refugees,

hiding in timeless forests, afraid to walk

blustery tundra; expanses where blunt words

strike hard, readied with prehistoric intent.

Written by The Silicon Tribesman

Source link

XTerraSpace