Saturday, January 28, 2017

I found a palimpsest so hard to read
I could not tell what inklings there erased,
and yet the effect of inklings I could trace
somehow seemed to satisfy a need.
I set off searching every way I could,
and found in searching some discernment grew,
though I grew old and and my life almost through
before I'd say I partly understood
meanings in what palimpsests I found -
it took until my mind could filter out
much din and dazzle to find out about
the golden vein, or chord, or thread, or sound,
subtleties that calm as they astound
and lead - what glory if - to higher ground.

-E.L. Montoya

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