One there was that danced upon the surface
Seeking honoured place to rest and let it be
Dedicated to communication
Prepared to work alone or company
To singular intention caught in heartbeat
Rhythm born intrinsic in its sound
Worked its way along the lines of empty
Espied its niche and settled right way round
Others clambered to be party to this
Festive wake where all sounds go to lie
Rejoicing in the mini death from random
Found a better place to conjure why
Purpose to existence in their being
Favoured by the one who may not know
Whether each and every grapheme chosen
Will do their job well, meaning to bestow
Rest ye well all phonics torn from alpha
Through omega, all that serve between
Many are there waiting, be not ill-used
Repose, post work, to know that you have been
Picked before all others still awaiting
Skill by some more gifted, all must wait
Practise while you work upon the forming
Perhaps some day may praise at well-placed state
Characters that haunt with saddest weeping
Shadows of the words they could have been
Spectred to ill-chosen, used and destined
To roam forever dwelling might have beens
Words evasive, parted soul from symbol
Vacant shells now cast adrift to face
The artifice of empty, this their fate flawed
Selected, misappropriated waste
In phrases, chosen chasms that despoil them
How can any cast thus find in name
Any sound or timbre worth their purpose
Poor letters, never stamped but sent the same
No one ever will recall their passing
Too many of their siblings chosen best
Selected by a wisdom quite elusive
While shallow markings never etched true worth.
Still the sounds browse up and down for tempo
Seeking yet their place upon the map
Desire for destination in their searching
Union with all others for sounds apt.
scottishmomus 