Lost For Words Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

‘In the beginning was the Word'
But surely there was a time
Before words, when dreaming reigned?

And the dreaming was intrinsic scoping -
Part-listening, part-musing, part meditation
In a seamless word-less, pre-word world.

Then creation had no bounds -
Imminent, predestined, immanent -
It was unconcerned with particularity.

Are poetry and music then the echoes
And reverberations of that time
Before heaven and hell mattered?