Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Poem: Language Barrier

Language Barrier

The book is open,
and in the dim light
the words leap out with color, precise
yet beyond your understanding,

written in a language
you do not understand,
something ancient, full of truth,
yet still,


and you look at your life
as a museum piece,
in open display, yet
seen by only the few who care

enough to walk in from their busy streets
and stop in the dim light,
and look.

What do those few see,
the art work that decorates your life,
or the truth that is there,
yet because of different languages, continues to be



The picture was taken in Venice, at the music museum there. You can click on it for a larger version.



Derrick said...

How easy it is for us to see only the decoration rather than the inner truth?!

gingerhillery@mac.com said...

A friend and I were just talking about that very concept. Nice metaphor. Oh, the gift of understanding is a rare and wonderful thing, isn't it?

Tom Atkins said...

Ginger - it is way too rare. It can come from effort, and in the rarest of times, naturally, but either way, it's a gift.

Derrick - too true.