a sacred spoken word

Like a newborn child
I am learning a new language,

and breaking in a fresh pallet.
I have spoken it before, though lost my voice;

lost it in my wanderings

and forgot it in my homecomings.

The tongues of messengers

speaking inaudible or unintelligible librettos,

resonate truer to the harmonious kingdom pitch.

These were familiar - now foreign -

to be discovered anew, in belief,

by a fresh faced novice thrust from the monastery.

Oh! In exalted, exclamative, reflection

I discipline the unruly horses of untamed thoughts.

To focus on the divine an hour,

would be to bring my lost belongings home.

"Oh, simplest of prayers be found on my lips continuously."