Fablegrown Poem by Christian Thomas Scott

Careful ought our tongues portray these moments,
And purposed stone engrave our every word,
Fortress of unprecedented minutes,
By which we hold our time unto the sword.
For though we die, our words are unreplacing,
And shall dispute our deeds with clever hand,
Deciphering fractals of imagined dreams,
And tossing secret love where wise men stand.
Yet what are words but mirrors to the soul,
And oft not unto author, yet to men,
Beholding each themselves as one they read,
And voices from their shadows speak within.
Too late for every silent moment's end,
For every word tells all that once has been.