Misinterpret

When thoughts have frozen
Beneath the icy sheets of anguish
And the ink well has  collected dust
Of life that has been forsaken too long
And there amongst the weeds of ignorance
Rises above the mist, flickering fireflies
I write without an utterance of a word
So I could be understood, like a palm tree swaying
Above the sea, never a memorable word, but yet
Profound in its whispering of dreams
I write the verses of rippling lake
And I write about the shadows that twinkle in the dark
For the love that's always hidden
Like the flip side of a moon, but I write, without putting it into words
A poetry of the lips without a voice

I wish I could use some words
To write for those who have no voice
Like millions who suffer in hunger
Words that have no meaning
When asked for a morsel of food
They heap upon me volumes of holy books

I write, again and again, just so the nibs
Made of bone chips
May surrender to the pains of longing
And words cause true blood to once flow.