FaerieCarousel

Whence come these words? From what whispering tongue? Or what grey spider shining spun These filaments, these ghosts of sound, The snares by which a thought is bound And pinned upon the bleach-boned sheet, Its airy beauty made concrete? I know not how they come to me-- Like leaves snatched from a gilded tree, Or gemstones delved from hallowed grounds, The bright sea where my reason drowns. Is it I who seek, or they who find, These words which whisper in my mind? I do not understand this mystery-- How do these words belong to me?