Run with words like a string on a kite flying up in the air
As it deftly brings you to a loss of breath
From the sensation of floating off to the very tips of the toes
Lightly grazing the smooth concrete,
Running subtle vibrations up to the crown of the head.
String together a thread of the most euphonious words
Like onomatopoeia, which is the most honest in that it is just what it is.
The simplicity adherent to an unusually vowel dominated name
Characterized by the inability to be deceiving.
And on the surface it looks complicated, but beneath the consonants
There remains a beautiful sound,
Pure and simple.
Or the word “The”
An article placed before any significant Subject,
With a root stemming from God.
And “The” is everywhere.
We chant it like little droplets of water hitting the surface of the skin
With a patter in soft whispering puffs,
Pleasant and promising of the possibility
Of the wisp of a rainbow against the sky blue infinite,
Breathtakingly nostalgic of childhood when there really did exist a magical pot o’ gold.
Sighing with a deep longing in the heart
With wordless thoughts that will stay sacred in the mind,
Even though someone out there understands it
Complete without words.