Taut tomes
And vociferous volumes;
Tall tales
And magnificent epistles.
Each story unfolds
Both to the teller
And the recipient
In so many differing ways
And often,
That which may appear the same
Is so manifold in its manifestations
We would wonder
We were even on the same page…
Yet somehow, undercurrents of sense
And meaning and theme and denouements
Crash from turbulent and tepid tides
At once!
And all along myriad and multiple shores
The message comes in…
Just as it will go out again…
And these various waves
Of size and sound and writhing around
Envelope and succumb sense
And all the senses
To the point where
Losing each self
Means all’s not lost
As the swell will subside…
…Just as the void will rise
Once more.
© Tony Atkinson