What Words

What Words

What words would last a million years?
What notion lay they bare?
What sentiment, when one just hears?
Intent will persevere.

What thought can be so powerful?
Command both grunt and lilt?
Reduced to word and syllable,
invited to the hilt.

No langauge fails to give it sound;
no heart to make it true.
No parry, charge or circle round
can stop its coming through.

No lack of feat can hide its source;
no shame can hide its seed.
No anger ever lived, of course,
without it as its need.

It makes the weakling mighty;
and makes the mighty weak.
Can tame an endless fighting;
embolden who are meek.

No ego can outshine it;
no soul can own outright.
For all the days that pine it,
may surface in the night.

No action fines entitlement;
nor mishap forfeits due.
No suffering belittlement
can change that it’s for you.

No propping act can goad it out;
no beg can make it stay.
For powered, even lowly, lout;
each dog, yet, has its day.

No thanks can pay in total,
though deeds may pay a tithe.
It lives our lives, eternal,
enduring when we’ve died.

One gives it while one’s letting go;
the heir accepts, or not.
One, it takes, to make the show;
two to make the thought.

No love can guarantee it;
no hate exclude its growth.
We’ll know it when we see it,
but only in us both.

No want was ever stronger;
no gift so selfless great;
no concept will last longer…
save welcome for its grace.

© Sean G. O’Leary 2021