I wish it was no concern of mine,
But yet I wish that you would try
To teach the hand the tongue’s strange art
To tell the stories of the heart.
For you have never heard a sound,
Have never uttered a word with the tongue
The music of your looks, nor found
A voice their sweetness to prolong.
I’ve seen what you too could see,
The calm, The motion and the breeze
Of various elements combined but yet free,
to satisfy the cravings of our eyes
I’ve seen what you have seen, the sky
As pure as innocence could make it,
As blue and bright as beauty’s eye,
With not a tearful wink to shake it.
Ask not for words in such an hour,
nor the ear’s listening power.
Sense is not competent to tell
The striving of the bound soul;
Thoughts high as heaven and deep as hell,
Will awfully around it roll;
And words are violations that dare
Its fearful workings to declare
– @Baby_Shamzy thinking on obafuntay(dot)com