A Constellation of Words

Sad as it may sound, I have composed a poem inspired by my own blog title. Lame, I know, but it turned out surprisingly well, if I do say so myself (and I do).


My mind is a dimly lit cavern,
My thoughts stumble 'round in the dark.
My eyes upward look to the ceiling
And see through the cracks
Constellations of words that aren't words.
They flicker and glow in the vault
As they gaze at my stumbling thoughts,
Beings beyond mind's or voice's weak grasp,
Glistening, glowing and gleaming.

Then, like a net-bearing child pursuing
A butterfly mild, enchanting,
I reach for the stars
With my words.
And yet they persist their celestial dance,
Refuse to be sullied
By my poor mortal hands.
I call this one "Love," that one "Honor,"
This "Beauty," that "Justice."
They're many, yet one,
Inexplicably so.
Always they slip through my net.
For how can my words, simple words,
Contain wholly such wonders?
Why, after all, should mere words
Be so strong?
For all words are products of men
Who are broken,
 And so they are broken as well.

Thus often I sit,
Watch them flicker and fly
'Cross the taciturn sky,
Unchanging, eternal,
Perpetual puzzles
Enchanting my world-weary eyes.