Language Untold

What if flowers are untrue, dewdrops precarious,
For our walks untoward, perilous.
What if our language of the heart is untrue
For we seem to with language do:

Pray the Divine with all heart
With chorus as musical and art?
For to love be true, our language must be
For we the truth in language see.

Our ancients the crafters of language,
We do with it until we age;
Contend our souls with it
And we the truth seek.

Will our books be true
Left for us in few
Fizzling out with era’s falls
To understand our souls.

Man opts his pearly gate
With lost, wanton fate,
For he plays rings and colors
Oblating dewdrops and flowers.

Copyright: Welkin Siskin