without speaking a word

Without Speaking a Word

Somebody once told me, without speaking a word
that life was a song too few ever heard,
a silent symphony of souls
playing across the span of time,
searching for a singer
and a few words that rhyme.

They said that the music was magik
and the message was true,
that if I followed the music then I could be magik too,
a part of something larger, eternal and clean,
more beautiful than anything
that I'd ever seen.

As they spoke through their eyes
in the language of light,
something wonderful and strange happened that night.
I was let in on a secret.
The meaning of life is a practical joke.
I would tell you the punchline if I could,
but some promises can never be broke.

Though, if you can hear my voice
and have made a choice
to keep an open mind toward things obscure
and often absurd,
then somebody somewhere has something to say to you
and they will do so without ever saying a word.

a poem by Donald Wilfong

Donald Wilfong
12306 Rebel Rd.
Cleveland, Tx. 77327
(281) 659-9180
streetpoet25@aol.com