The Conch of God

It is said that poetry is the language of the gods.

The Conch of God

A secret language
comes from the silence
of a sunlit chamber. Still.
It lives in the whisper
of a South Sea breeze.
A thought, an image,
an ambient suggestion
obliquely applied
calls in the first word
and highlights the next,
then rises in waves of the tide
to cover the shore of reason.
Cleansing, it recedes
and leaves a blanched seashell
in the silence.
Listen.