Of Things Missed Poem by David Whalen

<center>So many, the people
With clear cold command
Of the language
And fully utilized by them
in daily discourse

And yet know little, or not…
Of the texture and design
In the weave of the words, and
Know or suffer not
A whit or hint of remorse

Of the richness of
The pleasures inherent
Tho' obviously to most,
not apparent
In the daily, depths
Of Deep discourse

The wealth of treasure
In daily words
By most is simply, sadly, missed
Yet in the majority not e'en noticed
For most…ignorance is bliss
</center>