A Poet's Jewel

A Poem by Nebulae

When the divine music tumbles
And the orators trample the light
The mystic poetry originates
within the compass of Language

The language, which is a Jewel
The trinket that evolves a song
That runs over melodies
in humblest paths ever espied

Down from the centuries where
we listened to the stories
and the overgrown mangrove of stanzas
where the water lives a silent stillness

There echoes a voice
Sweet sound, the voice of the soul
Language spectacles the charms of the insides

The poetry survives, on a torn page
of a rich-in-vocabulary poet
A invisible shadow of the intellect

The night grows darker, until their is no way left
to express whats burning in the heart
the incredible fire that transcends the life

It is the language which makes us who we are