The Old Words

Hoping that words change something

At night, I read the poets long past, 

and the elegance of their words shame me. 

Then in the morning, when reading the same,

the power of the same words claim me. 

For in the light, with things set right, 

and all the day before me

Those words take hold & that power of old 

Seems to support and adore me. 

Yet in the night, with nothing set right, 

all regrets of a day recalling

Though same words I read, yet philosophy’s seed; 

the bloom of Its flower, withholding. 

Oh let the need of this growing seed 

(for all the world does seek it) 

Bloom in my heart, and its wisdom impart; 

I promise to tend and keep it! 

To know is naught, if not to “do”, 

as it lies in my Earth, sleeping. 

And at human need, I'll sow the seed

to rejoice in its reaping.