MuteA prayer mislaid somewhere
between the words
is still a prayer.
Pointing at the moon
with your baby finger:
Unknowing distances
reach into your mind-
and then you see the stars
fossilised light;
A journey begun before
earth broke its silence
touches your eye
Was this its predestination?
You smile your brilliant smile,
though you have no comprehension,
- much less the words.
Because I was silent
They thought I had nothing to say.
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