Is there a point?

Is there a point to this? You wonder
as words tumble out in rhyme
Have I lost my sense and reason
am I now to loose my mind?

But lets stop for just a moment,
are your thoughts within your head?
Or are they gathered like a harvest
from the spirit world instead?

In what part of your white matter
would your words find their form?
What exactly would they find there
to prompt them to transform?

Perhaps a happy neuron
as it travels on its way,
or an electrical impulse
that is keen to have its say.

In truth your words are travelers
between your world and mine.
They’re neither gifts. nor servants
they’re on loan from the Divine.

They are the spirals of harmonics,
that cacophony of sound.
That is the fabric of creation
and where I might be found.

In a world of pure vibration,
you can sing the ancients song.
You can write a new tomorrow,
build a home where you belong.

As you look within the deep pool
like fishes words appear,
they float up to the surface
as they feed, and reach for air.

It depends how fine your net is,
how observant on the shore,
is the fisherman who’s waiting
with his eye on fish and more.

For there’s more within those waters
than these words upon a page.
There’s hope and light and purpose
and wisdom for this Age.

So it’s not just a flight of fancy,
to take a trip amongst the stars.
It’s a voyage of discovery,
set out in rhythmic bars.