My nose
It goes and pokes
it's self into all forms
of trouble and then it sadly
gets cut.
It goes and pokes
it's self into all forms
of trouble and then it sadly
gets cut.
The message is supreme;
Born in the heart,
and lilting itself
from tongue to tongue,
throwing its scent
over wind and wave;
travelling on dots
or fingers
when blindness
or silence bar its way.
It hews itself into stone
or burns itself onto magnetic discs;
it is the message that lives
and I exist
solely to pass it on.
Comments
Very nice. :)