These words have such a noble pedigree,
espoused by prophet, madman, wife and sage.
Truth and fiction, and fluent filigree;
such precious words are sealed upon the page
when all these words aspire to attain
that literary immortality
of Berryman and Mallarmé's domain.
Their worst fate: to fade to banality.
We use them in our poems so they might
survive the slow destruction of the years
and find new life in some far future sight
since every one means more than what appears.
My goal may seem at times a bit absurd:
to capture Time in every precious word.