And We All Lived Here: Have You Ever Wondered?

Have you ever wondered

what happened to the first words ever made-

The words sent out.

And let flow into the earth,

Where they mixed with tungsten,

And lead,

And all the other earthly elements,

Until a particular mix was formed

That held them solidly in place,

And allowed everyone to feel the power of the words,

In that magic place,

Under the trees that were known as buch-

The old Germanic word for beech-

Or a book.

The place where one could feel the power of the words,

Held in place by the substance known as ink.

 

The place of immortality.

And joy.

 

And then the words were weakened one day.

They were no longer held by the ink.

They no longer flowed due to the beauty of their being,

Or their being infused with light

And joy

And power,

They flowed only because they had been set loose.

Without form.

Or space.

The best of the words were broken,

Because many didn’t understand them.

And the form didn’t flow, because it was not captured in ink,

It was captured in bits.

And bites,

And digits

And the magic rounding of the letters,

And the seraphs,

And phalanges,

And calligraphic images,

Became one.

 

And the form became standardized.

And the people no longer met under the magic beech trees

To speak the words,

Or hear them spoken,

To feel the energy flow through their veins,

When a wordmaster felt the flow,

And the beauty,

And paid homage to the words.

And the people also paid homage,

And were also one with the flow.

And the joy.

Held by the ink.

 

But now, instead, they were separated.

Into atoms.

Because the holding ink was gone.

And the joy had run out.

And the words were now flowing any way they wished

From person to person,

In meaningless form.

And provoking anger,

As they passed between the atoms of the people,

Causing great pain.

 

And then,

Suddenly,

All was quiet.

Under the beech trees.

And the ink was still.

And dark

in its pool

in the center of the earth.

Waiting.

Waiting for a chance to bind.

 

But the atoms were moving faster and faster now.

Circling.

Like a whirlwind.

Waiting to engulf all in its midst.

And there was no longer a place for the words.

And the joy

And the ink,

Which was drawn from its pool

In the center of the earth,

 

And spilled

Into outer space.

Where it rained,

Slowly,

And beautifully

On those who had learned

To creep away.

And wait.

In quiet

And joy

And adoration

Under the beech trees.

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