The Intricacies of the Imperialised Word

I’ve lost touch I suppose with the kind of words that once flowed
From my mouth, my heart and my soul
It seems that timeless eternity has engulfed, my imperious ability
To grasp and hold colonially in my grip, the poor words that once had meaning
Perhaps today I have deprived their downfall by my sincere wish
That they would return and I with empresses kiss
Would return their once favoured and glorious worth back to them
For deserveth they do, though I no longer can restore what I did take
For I am now wounded in this cell of theirs
Unbound by love, hate or fear of any kind
Only numb to the intricate details of their minds
Had I missed something less divine, I would not now be so lost and forlorn
But surely, my deepest regret lies in that I didn’t see beyond this ambiguity
With metaphors and paradoxes have they finally caught me,
And what I knew so well has now become simple fallacy
How sad that I should be here today, at peril and far from harms way
In a web of words caught between sense and irony
The power of words has had its glorious victory!

© Quratul Ayn 2008