Our words with all their grandiose,
add nothing to the vastness of ocean,
waves do not folly in the commotion
of our sounds no matter how verbose.
Thought and words with all their tenses,
add to each, our own soul’s will to thrive,
it is a vehicle through which we drive,
as heart’s mind moves by way of senses.
So often it seems to our greatest dismay,
ideas perceived can keep us contained,
creating a chaos we struggle disdained,
a circling detour, a bedroom in disarray.
Just as courage doesn’t contain the brave,
but helps the spirit to constantly expand,
so it can grow in depth to understand
a noble pursuit of the freedom it craves.
Even the falling, in all the many Love’s,
a bottomless action, not a state of being,
a way of constant living, not an arriving,
always falling to the one we keep above.
If there is any advice this poem may part,
language can bind us from our action,
or make whole our viewpoint of fraction,
our highest power is to choose a start.
But never a complete master can we be,
so long as we seek a finish, and not a way,
this folly will only find us on another day
wave after wave makes a sea of the sea.
~ jeffrey vionito