“Brazen and Brash In silence, or speech Which more contemptuous? Which more regretful?
Does your conscience sting with longing For a chance to zig, And erase your zag? Will it darken your world or another’s, To the light that could be shining?¬
Is the fallen leaf A splash of wandering color to bless your path? Or does it linger in the wind, Dead and mourned, Unnoticed, or forgotten?
Is the fate of being lost More dreadful when you strip away the hope and wonder of intention? Without purpose, Is it simply empty?
In the still of the night, Does the moon or the light within guide your way? Does your foot know where to step From the repetition of kings and pawns before us? Or does it displace the mud and bend the grass, Simply because of its own presence of might?
What are the odds That speaking ones’ mind, Or heart, pray tell, Will meet an avid mate, Mind or ear?
What are the odds That hopeful silence Turns golden? Or might that gold, turn sharp and defeating?
At a table With both sharp and smooth edges, It’s the character between That determines its sentence or story.
It’s the touch of intent That breaks it to pieces Or shapes it fondly in memory.
At a point of uncertainty, It’s the truth in each word shared over it, It’s the intensity of each look met across it,
It’s the courage to bridge the gap that separates its sides, Mirrored or disparate, It’s the meeting of opposition and oneness That stirs the brazen and brash fate Of silence Or speech.”
