heyy everyone <3

this poem isn't mine and is most likely subject to copyright so please just enjoy :)


Like stars, or swarming bees, or flocks of birds,
We think them hardly countable, our words.

Yet fifty thousand's all we use, it seems,
For truth and lies, reality and dreams.

Which puzzles me. The world's more things than that.
Do languages grow lean as lives grow fat?

Is so much absent from our brains and eyes?
What's lost, I say, when we economize?

There's too much difference we make the same.
All poets love the miracle of name

Yet mourn exactitudes they cannot state:
The single noun that might denominate

Their moods of quietness like falling snow,
Or yearn for lexicons they cannot know:

The speech of eagles, what the dolphins sing,
The glossolalia of leaves in spring...

Nothing, we dream, could bring us to content
But fifty million words for what we meant,

To fit whatever happened like a glove,
Redeeming lost pluralities of love,

Until we wake to truth, and see again
Unharvested, like leagues of sunset grain,

Outnumbering all stars and bees and birds,
The matchless universe beyond our words.

- David Sutton

As you can tell, this poet is very talented with his words and I seriously recommend checking out more of his works! One of my other favourite poems of his is 'Cosmologies' :)


Also, the cover image is that of's @sevethilla

Thanks for reading and have a fab day or night! <3

Rebecca xox