A Hand Filled with Words

At Dawn, I awoke,

With a hand filled with Words.

I left without warning,

And considered the herds.

“I could give words to them,

Yes, the words would be nice.

Though what would become

Of the Cattle’s Soft Vice?”

So I trotted off East

To a vineyard, sublime,

“And what of these Plants,

Would not they like to Rhyme?

But the Plants, though quite stable,

Could not understand,

That a Word, or a Fable,

Is no swift demand.

Then on to the City,

Where dwell many a stable.

“Could the Horses Learn Speech?

Could their Tongues be enabled?

Then their Tongues’ be stopped Cold,

And their mouths’ be shut Tight,

For the people would mock them,

And Think them for Plight.”

Off then I went home,

And my heart made Assert,

That the words in my hand,

Would-- Could not do but Hurt.

They would finish the Story,

The fine entwined Tale,

Of Humanity’s Glory—

It would end Hard and Stale.

-Lewie II