To Cling, To Struggle – a poem


When you hear your name,

Tried and tired of reading

Aloud from books without end,

Rise, rise, to the incoming

Storm ride, calm amidst an eye

Of swirling tides far forming.


Names of power, charge in words,

Language the armament for more

Than just communication, what

Is made possible with it is ever

Even over a synergy without it.


Poetry aloud, sigils framed inside

Patterns that keep, those who cling,

Those who struggle to rend what

They can from the dusty spaces,

Against those still, grinning



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