The Bards

Every time those words appear, there’s meaning found anew;

it’s like that over all these years their meaning grew and grew.

I listen to the rhythm and feel their beating heart

and then, maybe just a fraction, I understand their art.

The poetry of ages; the ageless words they penned

tell us all the story that to each of us they send.

The message changes daily when read from where I stand;

is that all just an accident, or was it subtly planned?

The constancy of change that is the essence of it all;

the music that is language loud as a clarion call.

The words, the rhythm, my heart beat combine in gentle flow

as I take in with wonder what the words and rhythm show.

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri
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