Catching the world by its words

I take an armful of words to the lake, in my breath
As the sky seems still and is ranged over the trees
Sonically in whispers ,with a breeze ever so gentle
To the lake, smiling from enormous blue distances.
Time to catch the world by its words, in the softness
Of a silky evening, a passing thing of this very  time
Before it vanishes in a spoof of words, in a breeze.

I  return to spit fresh wet words into the wash-basin
And look up thimble ,quotidian,high sounding words
To catch the  world in acoustic grasp, its emptiness
Collected in porous canvas bags as a few sonic words
This way I try to catch the world  by its own words
By the very sonic words that have  made the world.

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