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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The Language

We have yet
to find our language.
Is there one that speaks
so clearly as the sea?
So many words
in the fastness of the waves.
In the sky
the rhythm and cadence
of the unceasing litany
of the air.
Words that respond to ours
as if there is a heart
with a language
that becomes our own.
An animus that
word by word
becomes the dialect
of love, dreams,
of what it is
that wants to speak
and speaking,
hears what the world
is saying, in a language
instantly our own.

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