The feeling, the thought, the Word.
And the things, that next occurred.
A trickle would become a stream.
Reality a-rise from dream.
An anecdote, a moving myth.
A friendly package that’s filled with . . .
Divinity . . . what it brings.
Woulds and shoulds and . . . everything.
The All from a single word.
One that captured, sang and spurred.
To cross the stream at its source.
That would be ideal, of course.
The stream is now a raging river.
Subject to what it delivers.
The fear and lust for control,
The set of men in warring roles.
It starts and ends with just a word.
A will to be but not unheard.
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