August 31, 2011 fm

The Speaker’s Poem

Your tongue is the desert. Your palms are the sea.

Your heartbeat a kettledrum at techno speed.

Your lines are playing hide and seek

on the mountain of fear, you are reaching the peak.

Then silence – a majestic pause.

1,000 hands, a majestic applause.

No word is crawling out of your jaws.

You’re stretching the band of your majestic pause.

The gold of your soul, your shining smile

is shining back from shining eyes.

Your fear surrendered. Your passion won.

Your first words with power, more power than pun.

They stick to your lips; from near, from far

they’ve come to see you – The Seven Minute Star.

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