Words ride on sound-waves
Across smoky rooms and satellites
They carve out keys
That unlock underground rivers
And spark dry flints
Into fires that buzz
Hum and ignite ideas
Through towns and continents
We must use them well
Mary Featherstone
Words ride on sound-waves
Across smoky rooms and satellites
They carve out keys
That unlock underground rivers
And spark dry flints
Into fires that buzz
Hum and ignite ideas
Through towns and continents
We must use them well