Can one weight the healing power of words

Mantras often heard to hypnotize

The mind

Adrift moves on

Listening to the words in song

Bemused

Lost

Unanchored, drifting on the rocks

With scant thought

To the ebbing tide which had brought

Flotsam and jetsam forth

Noticed not

For pondering what the words had wrought

The wordsmith wondered at his art

Of conjuring images from thin air

Rare

Upon the peaks he strode

Harking the truth

Of no abode

Prepared to die

Lest the witness pass by

Gurdjieff who seemed to imply

Was best to train the body and mind

By attaching some weight

To the words
The fool did spake in jest

For upon his quest

The paths he trod

Lead to the source

Of the rod

His back did bear

Winding upwards the stair

Way to heaven

Where he strode

Oblivious to the cliff beneath the road

The bard

Sung on

Listening to the tuneful song

Of the birds close by

Sylvia’s grave

Orphelia, Virginia laid

Where madness knew

Vincent, Hamlet, Abiku

Unhinged

Ajar

Blowing in the wind

Following a star

A sun

Who’d died

Crucified

Yet whose words lived on

Though never writ

Except in the sand which time let slip

In parable

For belief

Did drive the wisdom from the thief

Who stole the light

To fly

Illuminate

The knowledge which the word could not reflect

The mystery unseen, unchecked

The unmoved mover yet

Words sway

Actions, deeds, the day

The battles fought

The weight of words comes not to naught

But air

Where?