Roger Harington
There are words which,
When I read them, make me think
I’d like to remember this, it’s
Wise or witty, may
Tell me what I know but with a
Precisely arresting clarity, whereas
Other words I like can lead me
Beyond what I know, they’re
Searching, reaching out
Beyond the border of
Accurate awareness, the words
Suggest, evoke a possibility, the
Hint of a thought, an idea, they
Serve, honour, wonder at
Life’s encapsulating mysteries, they
Haunt me, they’re
All in my quotation book where the words are like
Bricks, they make a wall for a
Reservoir to store a supply to
Tap each morning so they can
Nourish intentions
Irrigate the will, enable a
Sense of a self to grow who is
Calmly purposing directions, but
Here they come again, how life must love
Planning these raids to fly in low to drop the
Bomb that cracks the wall so
Rage is bursting through to
Drown my mature intentions so I have to
Keep on and on rebuilding.