In the Beginning

Every word fell to the ground under the weight of meaning. We held each one up to the light. Those words that made sense were like truths to us. The others, in time, were more valuable because they could mean anything we needed them to mean.

winter solstice terns churning the mist

Published by

Bob Lucky

Bob Lucky lives in Portugal. His work has appeared and is forthcoming in various journals including Modern Haiku, tinywords, Rattle, MacQueen?s Quarterly, Presence, The Haibun Journal, and others. He's the author of Ethiopian Time (Red Bird Chapbooks), Conversation Starters in a Language No One Speaks (SurVision Books), My Theology (Cyberwit) and What I Say to You (proletariat.org).

11 thoughts on “”

  1. Love this one, Bob.
    Just there, no words in a fancy garb.
    Very difficult to write like this. . . it's much easier to hide behind the grandeur of a language.
    Wow!

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