What happens when you’re cold and dead
to all the words that you have read,
the stories floating in your head,
the inked-up pages you have bled?
Discover now that I'm resigned
to think our words are reassigned.
Like spirit, they can’t be confined
but born inside another’s mind.
© Ginny Brannan April 2012
 |
| image by Manu Pombrol |
A nice take on the image.
ReplyDeletei guess my comment earlier did not take...it is like ancient storytelling, tales passed down generation to generation....myths...our stories do carry forward if we tell them...i hope to leave a few for my children to pass on to their children, you know...smiles.
ReplyDeleteVery beautiful take on the prompt... i especially loved the lines-
ReplyDelete"Like spirit, they can’t be confined
but born inside another’s mind."
When you drown in your crystal clear tears.
I like the concept of our words being reassigned .. prompted me to think about the parallel universe theory as well.
ReplyDeleteI hope whoever gets reassigned my words has a sense of humour! LOL. Lovely whimsical idea...
ReplyDeleteIm with you on this one Ginny, Jungs collective unconscious , here we all come . Great concept.
ReplyDeletewow.... !!!
ReplyDeleteWhat a fabulous idea! Sure beats sharing thoughts with my identical twin this side of the astral plane!
ReplyDeleteGreat write! Right to he image!
ReplyDeleteYummy rhythm and rhyme here...
ReplyDelete