The Message

The message is supreme;
Born in the heart,
and lilting itself
from tongue to tongue,
throwing its scent
over wind and wave;
travelling on dots
or fingers
when blindness
or silence bar its way.

It hews itself into stone
or burns itself onto magnetic discs;
it is the message that lives
and I exist
solely to pass it on.


samudrika said…
That poem is amazing. Gave me goose bumps! Reminds me of the saying "A chicken is just an egg's way of making another egg"

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