Word Poem by Victor Sklyarov

I really do believe
In immortality of Word.
Once said it starts to live
When ceases to be heard,

It only may be observed,
Becomes the personage of endless play
Staged at the theatre named World,
Some for the centuries, some for a day.

Thus Oedipus is no longer king
And Hamlet’s not involved in killing
They are the notions we bring
Expressing feeling.

I start to contemplate
About my fate
So drastically changed
Just by few lines exchanged.
Of all the accidents
I know not precedent.